Speak Of The Devil
by computasaysnoo
Summary: Unable to accept that he's a mutant, Josh Foley comes to Xaviers with hatred and indignation towards the student body. As external problems begin to arise, and the survival of the mutant race comes into question, Josh's world is turned upside down, while those around him attempt to pick up the pieces. Set during Academy X and is an AU. Rated M for strong language and mature scenes.
1. The End

_**Speak of the Devil.**_

World set: X-Men Universe.

Rating: M (+17)

_Contains: Mature Language; Gruesome scenes & death; minor sexual/adult scenes and religious/philosophical based themes. If any of these are not your cup of tea, then I suggest you go for coffee._

**Please note that this is an AU. some of the characters have been changed greatly and many of the canon events have been changed also.**

_Disclaimer:_ All characters seen in this story are the brainchildren of **Marvel** and its respective writers/designers. I do not have anything to do with the creation of these characters whatsoever. I've simply taken them and added some _Reggae Reggae_.

_*** **__italics__ will be used mostly to indicate the character's thoughts, however it could also be used to highlight a word or sentence. I was careful with the context, so I'm hoping it's clear enough in the story._

**Chapter 1: The End.**

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"Everything has come through. Guardianship has been officially passed onto me," declared Mrs. Frost, as she gingerly placed the phone back onto the base. "Welcome to Xavier's School of Higher Learning."

Josh sat opposite her, his eyes filled with indignation in the form of bitter tears. He had barely been on the campus for an hour before he was escourted into an oaky office, and aloofly greeted by a tall blonde woman known as "Emma Frost."

He couldn't bring himself to even look at her in the eye. He was ashamed of who he was; _what_ he was, and couldn't accept that this woman was anything else outside of a genetical mutation. He was _just_ like her, and that thought sickened him to the core.

"It'll get better," she said, breaking the tangibile silence between them. "A lot of students dislike it at first, but they all agree that it's an uphill journey after they settle in."

Josh rolled his eyes. Why was everyone trying to tell him how he _will_ feel? Does nobody care about how he_ currently _feels? He decided not to dignify her advise with an answer, and instead, slouched further into the armchair. She seemed to notice his ailed expression, but did not comment on it.

"It'll take the staff a few hours to choose a room for you," she added briefly.

_Choosing a room for me? Please, make it solitary confinement, for both our sakes._

"Incase you're wondering, we choose rooms based on compatibility. The last thing we want is two room-mates bickering all year long," said Emma, forcing a faint smile. "We rarely receive any complaints from room-mates after they're assigned, so I'm confident you'll be perfectly content with your room _and_ your mate."

As he was about to ponder the possibility of locking himself in this _room_ and just not coming out, he was interrupted by Emma's voice, which was now distinctivly louder and more enthusiastic.

"Ben! Come in here! We've got a new student! This is Joshua Foley - he's flown all the way from California to attend here."

Josh mentally gagged at the fact she made it sound as if he was _willing_ to go to this mad-house.

A clonk was heard from outside the room - from the busy hall - as a student stopped himself mid-walk and turned to enter the office. Josh didn't bother to turn around, instead fixating on a swirly black spot etitched along side the formations of the dark walnut wooden floor.

"Aye, California, y'say?" said a voice from behind, "never had the pleasure." There was a strange inflection to the student's voice; he seemed to retain an accent which Josh couldn't immediately identify.

"Ben is originally from Scotland, which is _almost _as far away as California." Emma gushed, at a last attempt to break the mould with Joshua.

_Try 1000 miles difference, you geographically challenged harlot._

Ben visibly shook at her ignorance before quickly straigtening his posture and clearing his throat. "Of course. Well mate," he proclaimed, taking a step toward Josh's side, "name's Ben. Pleased to meet'ya."

Josh looked up to examine his fellow student, only to be met with shock. Ben didn't appear to have any skin; his body was engulfed by a human-shaped aura of fire which flicked and dazzled under the light from the window behind.

The foundations of his body shone carmine red, while the further reaches of the flames boasted brighter orange. Darker shades of these colors defined his facial feautres, as the ever-moving fire danced around his body.

Josh couldn't see any hair, either; only a lick of flames which flicked upwards from the top of his head.

Ben extended a firey hand, oozing gamboge flares which mimicked the surface of the sun: miniscule ringlets of fire twirled from the base, catapulting themselves from different locations of his palm. The tips of his fingers were a stil de grain yellow, gently disappearing into a light conglomeration of weak flames and embers.

However, Josh saw no beauty in such a thing.

Ben's incandescent hand waited for Josh to reciprocate, but received no such gesture, causing Ben to lower it to his side with an apologetic gasp.

"Oh sorry, mate, I completely forgot to warn'ya. It doesn't hurt. I turn the heat on mahself; you won't feel a thing."

Josh glared up at him with a horrified expression.

"You _turn_ the heat on?"

Ben smiled proudly. "Right! I can make it hot if y'want, mate, but I don't usually pull that trick until y'am friends with'em."

_And that's something we will never be._

"R.. right." Josh stammered.

"Didn't mean to scare ya mate."

"You _don't_ scare me."

"Then shake my hand. I told'ya, It wont harm'ya."

Josh scoffed, and turned his head away from the fiery mutant. "I wont take my chances on that one."

The familiar awkward silence arose from its sleep and drooped over them like an unwelcome fatigue.

Emma, desperate to mediate, spoke up again: "Ben, why don't you show Josh around the school? I'm sure he'd appreciate that. In the meantime, we'll get your room sorted and we'll let you know when it's ready for you."

With that, she ushered them out of the room with a relieved intake of air. After the door shut, she allowed herself to be inhaled by the armchair, gently positioning herself so that her head could lean on the headrest.

Josh was certainly one of the more _difficult_ teenagers Emma's had to work with. Becoming the guardian of a student was not an outlandish occurrence to her, but she couldn't help think that there was an element of punishment to the parents decision to hand over their responsibilities. These kind of decisions aren't made lightly, yet, the Foleys were very quick to sign over their son. Josh's attitude began to make more sense; for a parent to rid their child so enthusiastically - as if they were subject to an expiration date - would certainly have a scarring effect on them. She concluded that life in Xaviers will not be easy for Joshua, and that she'd definitely see - or at least, hear of - the teenager again, sooner rather than later.

As her mind drifted away, she began to think about the bubble bath she'd have later, and sank a little further into the soft cushions of her armchair.

A _day's_ work in the office.

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Ben guided his agitated 'new friend,' down the halls of the school. Dark mahogany wood sprawled over the floor, giving the corridors a warm earthy essence. The walls wore a slick coating of wilmington tan and were decorated by historic portraits and paintings which Josh estimated to be worth as much as a few thousand each. Antique wall lights hanged ostentatiously from the gaps between the portraits. Josh then guessed that the building must be much older than it appears, which is why the décor stayed true to the establishment's age.

The crackling student lead Josh through the main doors of the school which opened up to a raised brick porticol that spread across the width of the building and was boardered by an array of steps that led to a glistening courtyard. A cobbled path at the end of the stairs cut through the grass, leading to the main gates.

Mature, wrinkled oak trees were sporadically located at different parts of the courtyard, while each curb flirted with the swaying petals of the flowers behind them. Despite his hatred toward the school and everyone in it, Josh could not deny the beauty before him. The sense of movement from the ambling group of students brought the entire courtyard to life, bounding the existence of nature and humans together.

_.. Humans._

Bitterness and sadness hazed his thoughts as he began to ask himself how he could come to enjoy a place where such an obvious destitution of humanity existed. He looked up at Ben, who was busy reciting the school's ethos to him. He examined his skin, his body. There was no visible flesh, only darker shades of red which insinuated form. His eyes were a deep amber - a color Josh had never seen before – a color which appeared to transcend anything he had ever seen in the eyes of a human.

It was apparent to Josh that Ben retained very few 'human' characteristics at all. He had no skin; no hair and even his eye color seemed alien. How can anyone who fails to acquire such basic human attributes consider his or herself human?

If an animal can talk and walk like a human, is it a human? Or is it just an animal imitating a human? At what point does one 'gain' humanity? Or at what point does one 'lose,' it?

They were questions that churned in Josh's mind; questions that prevented him from accepting what happened; questions that disallowed him to prove his own humanity. Ultimately, these questions were the very things which kept him up at night.

Was _he _even a human?

He shuddered.

"Y'alright in thair?" asked Ben, lifting a firey muscle which appeared to be a brow.

"Y.. yeah. I'm fine. Go on."

A suspicious expression briefly crossed the ember's face but it subsided when Josh insisted he was listening.

Of course, he hadn't caught a word, but, Ben needed not know that.

Josh figured that the student wasn't stupid and was acutely aware that he wasn't catching a single word.

Josh's assumptions soon prooved true: Ben stopped speaking abruptly, and receivied neither a nod, nor any indication in the slightest, from Josh, to continue.

"Am just waiting for ya to ask me to go on, mate," sighed Ben, who tilted his neck to view his fellow student's face.

"It's okay if you're bored out yer mind, mate. Just tell me."

_I'm not bored, just waiting for the most conveinient moment to get away from you._

"Is there food here? Where can I eat?" Josh asked neutrally.

Ben laughed and almost patted Josh on the solider endearingly before stopping himself. "It's not a prison, mate. The cafe is down the hall - past Ms. Frost's room – back the way we came. Ah was planning on meeting some mates there at 4 if y'ed like to come?"

_Just kill me already._

"I don't want to go with you. I just want to go home."

Ben's heart dropped a little in sympathy for his fellow mutant. "Aye, mate. It's hard, ah know that. But lockin' yerself away or waitin' fer some hero to come'n save ya won't put food in yer belly. Come with me, eat somethin'."

If Josh was going to plan some kind of escape from the campus, he'd need to be in good shape and be well fed. He conceded that Ben was right, and reluctantly followed him to the café.

"So where'n California're ya from?" Ben asked, adjusting the straps of his bag as he turned to face the other mutant.

"Why do you care?" the Californian snapped, fixing his head so that Ben could not see his face.

"Just makin' conversation, mate."

"Make conversation with someone else."

"Can't. I was told to show you around."

_I hereby relieve you of your duties._

"Fine. How much longer?" Josh sighed, exasperated with the small talk which Ben seemed to adore.

The flamed teen ignored his question, turning the corner and escourting Josh into a round cul-de-sac which was the cafeteria. The entire room was a checked glass dome, with 3 large oak-trees encircling it from outside. To the left, were the trays of food which served the student body. The entire dome was filled with students who sat at tables, which were desultorily scattered within the dome.

Ben indicated to follow, and lead Josh to the line of silver trays which boasted a selection of meats, vegetables and deserts.

"Food is good 'ere," Ben opined. "'cept when Harry's out; he's the best chef. The others get lazy when he's not 'round." He smiled, expecting to see Josh do the same, but was disappointed.

"You're a tough cookie to crack, mate."

"Then stop trying."

"Awk, just tryin' to be nice. We've all been in your place; we know what'yer going through."

Was everyone going to tell him that they knew what he was going through? Is it necessary for them to try and relate to him? His agitation intensified, and he brought himself to look at Ben in the eyes.

"Stop, just _stop_," Josh growled, pinching the gap between his eyes. "You don't know me; you have never known me, and you _will_ never know me, okay? Can we make this clear? We are _strangers _and with any luck, it'll stay like that. So could you stop pretending to give a shit about me? Because frankly, I couldn't give a shit about you, or any other of these mutants in this god-forsaken hell hole, for that matter."

Ben was taken aback. Patience was innate in him, and rarely did he find it run slim, but, he found it hard to enshroud his irritation any longer, as Josh spat on his good nature.

The firey mutant took a deep breath, relishing the moment of 'not-yet-saying-anything.'

"Looks like y've got some issues, mate. I'd be lyin' if I said I was okay with that rant'v yours, but for your sake, I'm gonna count that as yer first – and last - need to lash out." He sighed and then craned his neck to view a table in the distance which he then pointed to. "See that table over there? Ah'll be there with some mates; when you decide to act like a normal human bein', come over to us."

_Because you'd know all about human beings. Hilarious._

Josh huffed and turned to the trays of food. He could hear Ben's footsteps disappear into the gentle murmur of conversation from the students behind him.

The food _did_ seem to be of good quality, even by his standards. But, did he want to eat anything that _mutants_ had cooked? Was that even sanitary?

He remembered his maid, Dalores, and her wonderful baking. She'd cook the most crumbly oat cookies, only to follow them up with a rich, assortment of steaming cranberry and blackcurrent muffins. His mouth began to water at the thought.

"Move to the back if you can't decide," admonished the cafeteria man from behind the trays. "We don't got all day."

After Josh brought himself back to reality, his eyes peered down to the man's name tag.

_So this is Harry. What a first impression._

The middle-aged man glared impatiently at him: his thick brow knitting together in light of Josh's decision to ignore him.

"Did you hear me? Move it, or I'll move you myself; there's hundreds of students to feed here."

_Let them starve, all I care._

Without even acknowledging Harry's existence, Josh walked to the salad bar and threw some greens together onto a plate. This Hollywood diet wouldn't last much longer; at this rate, Josh was one outburst away from deep-frying the closest chocolate bar and gobbling it up in seconds. Again, his mouth watered.

The new student scoped the dome for a free seat; sitting alone seemed like a gift-wrapped opportunity, but an opportunity far too difficult to achieve based on the number of students who filled the chairs. He sighed, and ambled over to the table Ben had pointed to earlier. Much to his chagrin, a seat had been saved for him beside the glowing mutant.

_Great._

As he sat himself on the chair, the stares of the others at the table began to surround him. Ben gave him a reassuring smile. "Are ya feelin' better mate?" He asked, alluding to Josh's recent outburst.

_No._

"Yes."

"Good t'hear. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like y'to meet me friends." His hand waved towards the other three at the table, who were staring neutrally at him.

Josh's diaphragm crinkled when he realized that one of the girls at the table had .. wings. They resembled those of a butterfly: transparent and glittery, while hosting a network of neon blue veins which connected each and every reach together. They were longer than the girl herself, yet they seemed to tuck behind her neatly as she sat upright.

His eyes rolled towards the other male: his commonality surprised Josh, as he retained neither wings, nor an aura of fire. He boasted wavy black hair, which parted at his scalp above his left eyebrow and dropped with a swish over his right. The hair on the sides was cut around his ear, while the black locks undulated freely at the back of his head. Red and white headphones curled around his neck and Josh could hear the gentle beat of the music playing from the speakers.

The second girl, across the table, seemed to stare in his direction, but not _quite_ at him.

He remembered what Blair told him: _"A guilty mutant will never look at you in the eye."_

The girl seemed to be of Asian descent, with jet-black hair, styled into a pixie cut. Despite her undistinguished clothes and hairstyle, her snowy eyes reflected the golden honey of his own, weeping rusted pain and unforgotten anguish.

He decided it was best to keep a particular distance from this one.

As her eyes fixed on him, Josh could feel her insecurities briefly influence the mood at the table, as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

The silence was broken by the winged girl, who extended a hand towards him and wore a warm – yet a tad nervous - smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm Megan, what's your name? I'm 17 – nearly 18 – but that's not until Janruary. I'll be having a party for it, you know. You're welcome to come; I know what it's like to be new here, it's very hard to sett – "

"Josh," the new student interrupted coldly, not bothering to shake her hand.

"Josh. Right, hello Josh. Welcome to the school." She smiled awkwardly and giggled her anxiety away.

The male, beside the nervous butterfly-like student, was next to reach forward.

"Name's Mark."

Again, Josh apathetically stuck his nose up to the boy's hand, which made Mark shrug.

"_Someone's not our biggest fan,_" he whispered to himself.

Josh, although clearly hearing the comment, decided to rise above the insult; this Mark _was_ just a mere mutant after-all. Ben was determined to take over Emma's role as mediator and counterproductively began attempting to link common interests between the existing and new student.

"What kinda music d'you like, mate?" asked Ben, trying oh-so-hard to be sincere.

"Not of your concern."

"What about food?"

"_Not_ of your concern."

"Places to visit?"

"_Not_ of _your_ _concern_!" Josh yelled, irratatedly rubbing his temples.

"Someone's got a pole up their ass," remarked Mark, who smiled audaciously towards Megan. Josh gritted his teeth and allowed his fingernails to blanche the soles of his hands. "Another comment like that and the pole will be down your throat," seethed Josh, who allowed his lip to tremble and lift as if he were a growling feral, ready to fight for it's survival.

"_Ouch_, you got me!" the wavy headed mutant derided, allowing his head to fall back in laughter. "As If I haven't been threatened like _that _before."

If others viewed Josh the way he viewed these animals, then solitary confinement would certainly become aspiration number one. They were acting exactly as Josh suspected: cheating, lying and rude. Blair was right; mutants cannot possibly co-exist alongside humans. Society could never function in such a state.

Josh would do anything to go back to those days, back to when he felt accepted, when Blair and the others welcomed him with open arms. He had never felt so _sanguine _during his time with them. But, after he was forced to leave, a little of piece of him remained there. The content, optimistic and acueilliant attitudes towards life - which he once retained - were overwritten by hatred, confusion and agony which spread to the very reaches of his humanity.

And here he was, being ridiculed by the same monstrosities that ruined his life.

"I'm not going to take this from you _bastards,_" Josh roared, causing the boisterous conversations around them to gently hush and lull. Mark's lackadaisical demeanor was mangled by Josh's reaction, leaving him slighty flabbergasted.

Ben, on the otherhand, having reached his limit with the Hollywood teen, stood up and eyed Josh heatidely.

"Ah thaink you should leave _mate_," he said between gritted teeth, smoldering his rage.

"Easier done than said," Josh bit back, turning around and heading for the exit.

When the doors of the café closed, conversations began to pick up again, allowing Ben to unclench his firey fists and slouch back into his seat.

"A've seen new kids hate the school on their first day, but he, he's just somethin' else," Ben declared, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Either he really hates mutants, or he really needs a girlfriend. I can't decide which," Mark interjected, the color coming back into his cheeks.

Megan giggled, and then wiped her hands on her jeans. "He's definitely the grouchy type. I wonder what happened to make him hate mutants so much, especially, when he _is_ one."

"Well the reason is obvious," Mark sighed, wearing the seeds of a smile.

"Is it?"

"Yeah. His girlfriend obvious nailed a mutant. Look at how he looked at us, he obviously has a chip on his shoulder."

Ben laughed away the remnants of his rage and turned to face Mark. "And just when ah thought you were gonna say somethin' intelligent."

"I say lots of intelligent things. I _did_ just suss out our blonde friend in a matter of five seconds, _didn't_ I?"

Ben placed an endearing arm around his friend, before gently turning on the heat of his flames, causing a sting to run down Mark's neck.

"Hey! You son of a –" he yelped, leaping to his feet.

"Just a wee somethin' to sharpen up those sussing skills," Ben cachinated.

"I hate you."

"Love y'too."

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Joshua scurried outside, feeling a desperate need for fresh air. The dome had made him claustrophobic; something which contributed to his brash outburst.

He decided that if he was going to _disappear_ from the campus, he'd need to stop stepping on peoples' feet and stay under the radar.

It had been so easy for him to lash out at his fellow school-mates; they _tried _to understand him and treat him like one of them, which, quite frankly, made him want to gag.

He promised himself that he'd never become "one of them," and that if he ever _does_ have to be nice to someone, it would be because he's ultimately benefitting from them and not because he truly cares.

Getting out of this prison, was priority number one.

However, it was still his first day and he had made his name known to everyone in the cafeteria. It would most likely get back to Emma Frost, and as a result, she'll probably keep an extra eye on him.

If he wanted to get out, he'd need to be sly.

Deciding that he'd completed enough useless interaction with mutants, Josh spotted a thick, lumpy oaktree and cinched that he would seem less ominous if he looked like he was actually doing something, and not standing in the middle of the courtyard.

He approached it, and slid down the chipped wood, before adjusted himself so that he was nestled perfectly inside a hollow between the roots.

As the sun's rays pulsated onto his face, he tilted his head back and momentarily enjoyed the sensation of the peppery heat on his skin.

The sun was always something that Josh found comfort in. When his parents were working and Dalores was having a day off, Josh's lonliness would sometimes consume him. He had neither siblings; nor aunts; nor uncles, nor cousins to share his days with. Both his parents were only children, as was he.

Of course, having Dalores around always cheered him up, but she was a human, and a person who lived her own life, separate to the affairs and duties within the Foley household.

But, no matter what happened on this planet; even if the land were to be consumed by a sheet of ice, the sun would always be there. And when he - and the few people he knows - are long gone, the sun will continue to decorate the sky with its beauty and might. It is unnmoveable, infallible, and most importantly: unchangeable.

Change was something that picked up Josh's life, span it around, and allowed it to drop to its demise. His life with his parents – although sometimes desolate – was relatively tranquil. He seldom longed for a certain item or to go to a certain place: his parents' money always catered to that. The problem was that he felt as if he was simply a trophy belonging to his parents: he was the handsome, strong and intelligent son that _every_ parent hoped their child would turn out like. Every parent in West _Hollywood_, that is.

In retrospect, it's clear to him that he was never more than a trophy. When family friends came over, he'd have to serve the drinks and the finger-food, while the guests gloated about their newest cars and finest jets. He was a method of boasting good-fortune and strong genes to these same people. His mother and father used him to ornament their titles as 'parents;' something he couldn't see back then. But, when he changed – when he turned into a mutant – they showed their true colors.

He recalled his mother's icy voice piercing him like an unchastened blade and his father's eyes leaking sorrow and sympathy, both of which were not directed at Josh, but at himself.

In that moment, he learned that nobody can be trusted: relationships are fickle and finite; everyone will look out for themselves – _humans are flawed_.

.. _But_

_if_ humans are flawed, then why does he treat mutants with such disdain? Is there a measurement which determines who is 'more wrong?' It wasn't the mutants that shut him out, afterall; it was the humans.

His mind raced back to Mark's comments at the cafeteria.

"No," he grunted to himself.

Mutants are abominations; mutants are the very roaches which spread the disease of human imperfection. It is because of them do humans make mistakes: mutants are to blame for _everything_.

He squeezed his eyes tighter together and allowed himself to become lost in the tingles on his skin.

The sun had become significantly more intense since his arrival at the tree stump, which was something he welcomed.

As his conciousness began to eclipse behind his thoughts again, the sun's heat suddenly disappeared, and the light on his eye-lids dimmed.

Shaking his head and wiping away the colored spots that blurred his vision, Josh looked up to see a girl – around the same age – standing in front of him. Her blonde hair twirled around her solidiers and ended with gentle ringlets that curled into her dress. She wore white plimsolls which shone from the sun above. Her dress came to her thighs and was bound in the middle by a brown belt.

Josh was immediately stricken by her midnight blue eyes, which he momentarily became lost in, upon meeting her line of sight.

"You're going to burn, you know," she said with an easing tone. "I brought some sunblock with me when I came outside. You can borrow some if you'd like?"

Josh squinted his eyes and broke eye contact with her. "I'm fine," he mumbed.

"Suit yourself. I'm _Laurie_. Laurie Collins. I haven't seen your face around here before, are you new?"

"Yes."

"Are you from nearby?"

_Nearby this dump? No way._

"No."

Laurie half smiled and kneeled down in front of him. He draged his legs closer to himself, creating a further distance between them.

"Are you from a different country?"

"No."

"Then I'll ask you again, are you from nearby?" she asked with a faint giggle.

"California. Look, do I know you?" Josh asked, trying his best to seem diplomatic, as of his 'stop bringing attention to yourself if you want to escape,' rule.

"Well unless you lived in Hartsdale, down the road, then I doubt it."

Josh's decorum began to deteriorate parallel to the advancements of her small talk.

_Why do all you mutants have to make such pointless conversation?_

"No, I can't say I every did live there. Look, Lauren or Laura, or whatever, I'm not really in the mood for people right now."

Laurie laughed inwardly, before smiling and standing to her feet. "First day, huh?"

_You're getting dangerously close to the 'I know how you feel,' territory._

"Yes."

"Well, good luck with it, then."

Josh's face perked up with eureka, when he acknowledged that she didn't offer an insight into his feelings, nor try to relate to him, something of which everybody else felt the need to do.

"Congratulations, you win the medal for the least irritating person I've met so far" Josh accoladed.

_Although taking back awards can be arranged._

Laurie knitted her brows. "Why? Who's been annoying you?"

_Ooft, and you were doing so well._

Josh remembered his mission to stay under the radar.

"No-one in particular," he lied, bringing his hand to his blonde locks and tussling them.

"It's not like I'll tell anyone. I wouldn't want to think someone is picking on you," she said, making no efforts to hide her pertubed tone.

_And I suppose I need you to stand up for me? You look mighty scary in those plimsolls._

"I'm fine. Could you leave me alone now? I'd rather be on my own," he reminded.

Laurie folded her arms across her white dress while her brows drew closer to her eyes. "Please, if someone is picking on you, it's ok. I know almost everyone in this school; I'd have no problems having a wor—"

"_No_!" Josh snapped, before instantly realizing that he now needed to save face, _big _time. "I mean, No .. thank you. Now could you please just leave me alone?"

_and then surrender your award. Thanks._

Laurie fidgeted with her hands bunglingly before turning around and crossing the courtyard, back towards the school.

Josh sighed.

_Once again, alone. Finally._

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It had been three hours since Laurie had aquatinted herself with Josh. After he snapped at her, she strolled into the seniors common room and threw herself onto the sofa.

With a capacious yawn, she reached for the remote and flicked on the television. What would be on today? Yet another anti-mutant rant? _Most_ probably.

With an exasperated sigh, she flicked off the television and slouched her head onto her fist. The events from earlier on plagued her mind. Was that kid being bullied?

Bullying was a rare thing in Xaviers. Mutants were discriminated enough by the 'humans,' so incessant internal conflicts were seldom seen amongst students.

But, one can never be too certain. For all she knows, everyone might dislike him because of how he looks or where he's from. She attempted to convince herself that bullying was not the issue at hand, and that this _Josh_ was just a troubled soul, like many of the students at Xaviers who had been abused by humans.

Although, it _was_ hard for Laurie to relate to 'anti human' behaviour. The public had never hurt her before, nor had they ever treated her differently. The reason being, was that she looked human. She didn't have skin altering powers like Ben, nor did she have wings like Megan. She could live free of scrutiny in society and no-one would ever know about her mutation.

She confirmed to herself that she'd rather be shot down by some maniac zealot, or a crazy red-neck before she'd live a lie. Laurie was proud of her powers. Although, she didn't deny that they caused her some anguish, they did nothing to permanently scar her, and without them, she wouldn't be the person she was today.

Yes, Laurie was proud to be a mutant, and made no bones about that.

She was one of a few students left who came to Xaviers as a freshman, and stayed until their final year. Most teens come in during their Sophmore year, as that is around the age of which the powers manifest. Even the others who came as freshmen alongside Laurie, many of them left at some time during the course of their schooling, because either their parents decided to take them back, or they simply escaped.

Emma does not treat the school like a detention camp, or a prison, either: if someone wishes to flee, they are free to do so, but she always warns them of the struggles they will face in the real world, especially those who live with a physical mutation.

_A physical mutation_

Laurie's mind shot back to that blonde kid, who seemed so distressed and agitated. She remembered that she asked him if he was being _bullied_.

.. And suddenly it hit Laurie like a thousand bricks.

She had asked a vulnerable person, a _male, _if they needed someone to stand up for them. She cringed as she imagined how she must have embarassed and belittled him; how she must've made him feel weak and deprecated of his masculinity.

A shudder ran up her spine at the thought, before she was hit by a pang of guilt. She knew she had to make things right, and in a split-second decision, she marched for the door.

She trecked through – the now empty - halls of the school and secretly crossed into the _boy's_ wing of the dorms. She tip-toed down the halls before she spotted the dorm of interest.

Sliding up to room "103," she quietly tapped her nails on the door. "It's Laurie, open up," she whispered.

She heard a shuffle from behind the door, before the knob turned and Ben was standing – sleepy eyed- at the entrance. "Laur, Laurie? What're y'doing here?" he asked, his voice fuzzy with sleep.

"Sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you something," she responded.

Ben raised a wispy brow.

"S'alright," he sighed. "Ah don't expect many people t'be asleep this airrly," he replied, checking his watch and confirming that it was only 9pm. Laurie smiled.

"I need your connections. You know how you're 'principal's pet?' Could you go to Emma Frost's office and ask her which room that Josh guy was put into?"

"Josh?"

"You know," Laurie reminded, "that new guy with blonde hair."

"Oh, y'mean _Josh."_

"That's what I said isn't it?" She retorted, twitching her nose to the side. "Josh."

"Well, I happen to know his room number already since – Hey! I'm not the principal's pet!" Ben blurted, experiencing a delayed reaction to Laurie's recent label. The blonde girl laughed and grabbed his hand in good humor. "Okay, I apologize – I take it back. Now, which room is _Josh_ in?"

"May ah ask why y'must know?"

"I was talking to him earlier and I said something that ticked him off, I'm just hoping to apologize," Laurie informed whole-heartedly.

Ben sighed again, as the events from the cafeteria invaded his mind. "Ah'd be irresponsible, Laurie, if ah didn't warn yeh against tha,'" he replied, his accent thicker than usual.

"Why?"

"There's somethin' wrong with'im Laur. Ah was showin'im around airlier and he made it very clear tha' he doesn'like mutants."

Laurie's eyebrows raised and she massaged her temple in a circular motion. "But, he_ is_ a mutant. That doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, it doesn', there's sumthin' strainge 'bout'im, Laur, I'd avoid'im like the plague."

"Noted," Laurie quipped with a quick smile. "But strange or not strange, I still need to apologize."

"Whatever y'say. But, don't say ah didn' warn'ya. He's upstairs in 266"

"You're the best," she countered, with a grin of pearly straight teeth. "And don't worry, I'm a big girl."

Ben rolled his eyes with a chuckle and gently closed the door. Laurie, on the other hand, began to creep up the stairs of the boy's wing and made her way to 266.

Ben had always been protective of Laurie. He was also one of the few students who remained since day one of his Freshman year. Every teacher adored him due to his soft voice and caring aura, plus, he had been there so long, they felt as if he was family. Laurie too, considered Ben to be the closest thing she had to an older brother; she shared her troubles with him and he always knew what to say to cheer her up.

However, as Laurie grew older, Ben never let go of his protective ways: always looking out for her and making sure she was as comfortable as possible.

Laurie knew that Ben would never let her out of his sight and that the only time he wasn't looking out for her, was when she was at home with her mother. Ben feared that some_one_, some_day_, would abuse Laurie's good nature and pure kindness. He feared to see her hardened and scared by the hardships and injustices of life and thus continued to do everything in his power to shelter her from that.

As Laurie approached room 266, she gathered her thoughts and decided on what she wanted to say. She needed to be clear; she needed to be apologetic and she needed to let him know that she wasn't trying to patronize him by offering her aid.

She knocked on the door.

There was nothing from inside. Her confidence renewed, and she knocked again, but this time, distinctively louder than the last.

When she was about to go for lucky number 3, her fist met air as the door swayed open and exposed Josh, who stared back at her with a puzzled expression.

"Erm, yes?" he asked, illustrating his shear flusterment.

"Hi, do you remember me from earlier?" she asked back, hoping to wean the conversation slowly towards her apology.

"Yes. Laurie, wasn't it?"

"That's me."

A silence befell them, and Laurie awkwardly began intertwining her fingers.

"Can I _help_ you?" he asked, his voice like a mellifluous melody, banishing the silence that draped over them.

Laurie brought her hands back to her sides.

"Yes, I was just hoping to apologize .. for earlier," she atoned, breaking eye contact with her fellow student. "I didn't mean to put you down, or make you feel weak, I was just concerned."

"What're you talking about?" he asked, genuinly dumbfounded.

"Oh, I.." She began to trip over her thoughts. She _hadn't _insulted him? He _didn't_ think that she had patronized him? Laurie was pleasantly surprised, while a little humiliated at the same time.

"I thought that when I offered my help in finding whoever it was who bullyi- erm, irritated you, that I had insulted you: made you feel incapable. That really wasn't my intention. I was just genuinly bothered that someone would pick on a new student, that's all." She took a deep breathe and tilted her head up slightly.

Had she been human, Josh would've smiled.

"I wasn't insulted, just tired from a long day and wasn't in the mood for small talk," he explained truthfully, with his plan to leave the campus not-with-standing.

"Right. Makes perfect sense. Sorry for jumping the gun."

"It's ok. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

Laurie expected he'd try to dismiss her at his earliest convenience, however, she did _not _come all the way only to humiliate herself and then get a door slammed in her face. She had the spine to apologize for her previous untactful questions, to someone she barely knew, _and_ to his face. She was not going to skip merely back to her room, only to wrap herself up in her coverlets and await for sleep to claim her.

"Have you fully unpacked?" she asked, ignoring his request.

"Mostly," he lied, blocking the scene behind him as best he could.

Laurie craned her neck and spotted mountains of clothes and belongings on the floor and bed.

"So all of that stuff belongs to your room-mate?"

"No, well, I –" Josh stammered, knowing he had been caught red handed.

"I'll help you clear it up. It's no problem. I used to help the Freshmen unpack their stuff when they arrived. I'm pretty used to it."

Before Josh could deny her entry, Laurie pushed past him and marched freely into his dorm. She glanced down at the hills of designer clothing which were tossed into corners - nothing more than dust gatherers.

His belongings were scattered around the room, some of which had found themselves in the bathroom and ontop of the television and radio.

"You really H-bombed this one," she chuckled.

Josh's face remained neutral, as he began gathering items which he didn't want her to see. Laurie - acutely aware - decided to do the courteous thing and turn around, and let him off the hook.

"Can I start folding this pile?" she asked, indicating to the summit of a dozen shirts which were stacked on top of each other. Josh nodded and turned to his shelf and began organizing his belongings on it.

"You've got some nice shirts," admired Laurie, as she folded a red one and placed it neatly on the desk. Josh remained quiet and continued to shuffle objects from one level of the shelf to the other.

Laurie noticed that he wasn't actually organizing anything, but was simply moving objects from shelf to shelf.

It was clear that he was uncomfortable in her presence: a realization which shook Laurie a little. Was she an intimidating person? Was she scaring him?

"You can leave, you know," she stated, folding another shirt. "Nobody is keeping you here. I know it feels like you're trapped here, but Emma doesn't run a slave business. if you want to run, you can run and no-body will stop you."

Josh seized, before eerily turning to face Laurie. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked darkly.

"Because it's wrong to hold someone against their will," she replied matter-of-factly. "If you don't like it, you can always leave, but I should warn you: I doubt you'd survive three days in the public."

"And why's that?" Josh hissed, angry that she would make assumptions based on his capabilities.

"Because of your _skin_," she snapped back, keeping her voice stern. "You'd stick out like a sore thumb."

Josh's fists clenched and the muscles in his jaw tensed. "Don't try and predict my fate, as if you know me, _mutant_."

"I never predicted anything, nor implied that I knew you," Laurie replied, with a more neutral, quieter tone.

"Then why are you here _helping_ me unpack, if you don't know me?"

A pensive expression befell Laurie's face, as she considered his question.

"Because," she said, stopping briefly as she gathered her thoughts. "Because, you haven't asked me to leave yet."

Her words zapped away any form of a retaliation that he had on the tip of his tongue. The blonde deflated, and then shrugged. It _was_ on him, afterall: she had completely laced the ball into his court.

She folded the last of his T-shirts before standing to her feet. "It's getting late, I should probably get back to my dorm before the night-staff send out a search party."

She turned in his direction and gave a warm smile.

Josh nodded, and examined the cleared space in the corner, where Laurie had folded his shirts. "I'll come back and help tomorrow, if you'd like," she offered.

Josh ignored her and turned back to his shelf. He didn't have anything prepared to say, until he remembered a thought that ran through his head earlier:

"_if he ever does have to be nice to someone, it would be because he's ultimately benefitting from them and not because he truly cares."_

He turned around and glanced at the door, of which Laurie was headed. "I'd like that," he mumbled, hiding the bitter disgust in his voice. "I've got a lot to clear and could use some help."

Laurie, feeling like 'The Good Samaritan,' nodded and twisted the knob.

When it shut behind her, she sighed with relief. Thankfully, he was not offended by her earlier comments. Also, she got to be the one to put him at a little ease and tell him that wether he remains in Xavier's, is one hundred percent, his _choice_.

She got the impression that the reason his temper was so easily lost, was because he felt trapped; kicking and screaming were the last things that made any sense to him.

As she walked down the hall, she passed a vending machine which seemed to stick out a little further that usual.

"You can come out, Ben," she commented, before continuing down the hall.

The firey mutant slid out from behind the machine with a sigh of relief: "Couldn't let'ya go in there completleh alone," he replied.

Laurie smiled, and stopped in her tracks. She should've known that he'd follow her. After his experience with Josh, her security came into question the second she marched into his dorm. Well, as far as Ben was concerned.

"He's harmless, you know," she whispered, remembering that she's not supposed to be in the boy's wing of the dorms.

"Y'don't know that Laur. Ah couldn't risk'im lashin' out at'ya."

Laurie smiled faintly. Did she need to be protected where ever she went? Would Ben ever realize that she's not a child anymore?

"I'm pretty capable, Ben. I know you're just looking out for me, but I don't need protecting."

"S'not you ah I don't trust, Laur," he sighed, wiping his flamed forehead, "s'otha people."

In the years she'd known Ben, she could not deny that he had more exposure to the public than she had. When she didn't have him around, she had her mother, and as a result, was sheltered from the injustices that plagued the mutant population. Ben knew what it was like: he knew how it felt to have a five-year old throw a rock at him and scream: "Go'way, dirty mutant;" he knew the look that everyone on the streets gave him when he walked by; he knew the feeling of dejection that society continually and openly instigates. He knew these feelings; he knew how they would taint Laurie's innocence and chew at very fibers of hope in her heart. He knew this, because he was once like her: pure and unspoiled. The best times in his life, were his care-free days, when was just a Freshman at the school.

Laurie knew that Ben had good reasons - albeit, personal reasons - to protect her, but even she didn't know how far deep her well-being and safety was branded into Ben's priorities. She reminded him of himself, before his hope and optimism was neutralized by society's hatred. By preserving Laurie's innocence, in some ways, he was preserving the remnants of his own.

Yet, Laurie would remain unbeknownst to the true _whys _of Ben's protection of her. And that's the way Ben let it remain.

"I'm a big girl now, Ben. I'm a big girl."

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

And there's chapter 1! I really hope you guys liked it. I welcome every bit of feedback there is to offer. Feel free to PM me with suggestions, thoughts, questions, you name it.


	2. And I know, a Change Gonna Come

**Chapter 2: And I know, A Change Gonna Come.**

* Text in between a pair of "-,"s indicates that the sentence is written, rather than spoken.

* **Text between the pair of £££££'s denotes a flashback.**

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

The first night hadn't been easy for Joshua. He couldn't sleep, regardless of every remedy for insomnia that he tried. After the fiftieth counted sheep, he gave up; it was almost sunrise and sleep had become a bothersome necessity. It just wasn't working tonight. Everything was still so raw and new; he hadn't completely dismissed the theory that he was in a coma and this was his mind playing out his biggest fears. The sudden change in his life had barely sunk in.

His nose poked further into the pillow and his heated eyes dried themselves on the Egyptian cotton of his duvet. He was completely alone: No mother, no father, no Dalores, no Blair and no Barnell. Everyone was gone, dwelling in the life he left behind – the life he once knew.

Angry tears sizzled into the soft fabric as he remembered the people in his life. He remembered Dalores's jolly and plump face, and the way her smile squinched his worries as if it was glorious light. Since being forced under the régime of _that blonde harlot,_ he'd never see the jubilant maid again. His head span and his diaphragm tensed in torment as he realized that Dalores was no longer a part of his life.

The pillow could no longer absorb his tears, and thus allowed them to fall down the sides and onto the mattress.

_Why me? What did I do to deserve this? _

As the sound of Dalores's voice articulated itself in his mind, Josh found himself flicking through his recent memories of home; the last memories of his _normal _life.

In the rush of the week, Josh never had the time to reflect on what had happened. The shock and fear had, in some ways, preserved him and prevented him from looking back on his last few days in California.

But he felt as if he needed to go back; he needed to remind himself of what he went through. His barriers dropped, and suddenly, a surge of heavy memories exploded in his mind with an electrifying pulse.

**s££££££££££££££££££££s**

"Joshua, your father and I need to speak with you," said an algific voice from outside his bedroom. "It's about tomorrow night."

Josh had been listening to music while staring at the television; he was tired from his run a few hours before, and his brain wasn't working to its full potential. The music had created a bubble around him, sheltering him from the disturbances of outside world.

"Joshua, what're you doing in there? Open the door!"

Through the baritone groans of the base guitar, he heard a muffled murmur from outside; it was high, piercing and ascended in tone.

.. _Mother_.

He leapt to his feet and approached the entrance to his room, turning the knob and swinging the door open.

"Finally!" She snapped, rolling her eyes to express her agitation. "What _took _you?"

Josh smiled awkwardly and brushed his fingers through the hair on the back of his head, and fixed his eyes onto the floor behind his mother.

"I was wearing my headphones - my new headphones, that, err, you got for me .. thanks again for that - and I guess I couldn't hear you. Sorry."

His mother sighed through her pique, rolled her eyes, and continued:

"Your father and I wish to talk to you at 8pm sharp. Meet us in the office."

Josh nodded. For his mother to say 'at 8pm sharp,' was perfectly normal to him. Seldom did she show warmth or love towards _him_; such feelings were put into clothes, designer handbags and other _necessities_ instead.

It was 7.45pm, and Josh had a few minutes to kill. Turning back toward his bed, he noticed his phone lighting up on his bedside table. He picked it up and scanned over the screen with his eyes:

_-Josh, open your curtains –_

If he didn't know who had sent the text, he'd probably be a tad uneasy. But, it was only Barnell Bohusk – the son of the neighbors, and a person Josh considered to be one of his closest friends.

He and Barnell had grown up together, under the politics of wealthy parents. Not many could understand their position, nor relate to the struggles of living with financial vampires: people who sapped life from any source that could boost their bank accounts.

Josh often asked himself if money was his parents' religion. If not, what _was_? Reputation? Appearances? _Automobiles_? Could these even be _considered_ religions? Josh looked at his parents, and he looked at Barnell's parents. Every aspect of their day-to-day lives were governed in light of the facilitation of money. If his Dad cooked, it was because he wished to appear to be a 'home dad,' to wealthy corporation owners, and leaders of law firms. He would never cook, simply for the love of it. His mother too, was a puppet of the Foley establishment's economics. She wouldn't leave the house to 'see a friend,' or 'to go to the movies,' unless this _friend _was the wife of a powerful CEO, or this '_movie_,' was the premier of the year's latest blockbuster. Nothing the woman did was in the name of _passion_; she worked for two things: herself and money.

When Josh was younger, he often wondered what would his mother do on a sinking ship that required a drop in weight to stay above the water. What would she throw out?

Her 3,000$ fur coat, herself, or Joshua?

The teenager always came to the same conclusion: he believed - although it defied all laws under the natural order – that she would toss him out, even before she'd part with the coat, or _God forbid_, herself. However, he didn't harbor any anger at her, for this reality. This _was_ his mother, and this was just the way she was. He loved her anyway.

Remembering Barnell's text, Josh slid open the curtains and revealed the side of his neighbor's house. From his window, he could see Barnell's room, and eventually, the boy himself, seated on his own bed. The neighbor noticed Josh and smiled before approaching his window.

Josh got to his knees and crawled under his bed, pulling a notepad out from a box, which was shoved into the leg of his bed-frame. He wrote a quick note on it, and held it to the window.

_- All okay? Just got your text - _he wrote.

Barnell chuckled and began scribbling a note of his own:

_- My parents __insisted__ that I go to another dinner party with them. Kill me, please. –_

This time, Josh was the one to laugh, holding the back of his hand to his nose to inhibit a snort.

_- I have to meet mine at 8pm and it's probably about a dinner party as well. Lets hope I'm not writing: 'mine insisted too,' later on! -_

Barney half-smiled, and began swirling the pen on the page.

_- I'd pay good money to see you write that –_

_- Funny, aren't you? Well, even if they did 'insist,' I'd tell them the truth: I'm sick – _Josh wrote back.

_-You are? –_

He wiped his forehead and bit his bottom lip as he held a tight grip on his marker and composed his written reply.

_- Haven't been feeling great, Barney-boy. I don't know what's wrong; I just have a tingling sensation all over my skin and, not to mention, a migraine from hell.–_

A mock-evil smile befell Barnell's face.

_- So you could possibly get sick in front of your parents' renowned friends and colleagues? Or better yet, you could pass out at their feet? Hell, I'd pay more than good money to see that! I'd even sit through one of your Dad's boring macro-economics lessons just to get myself invited - _

Josh buckled over laughing, uncontrollably drooling a little on the floor, before composing himself and taking a deep breathe.

_- You little bastard, – _he quipped back, underlining the curse word three or four times.

_- A little bastard who's still 'bigger' than you, – _His friend mocked back, winking, and pointing an index finger - with a thumb in the air - towards Josh.

The blonde teenager's jaw dropped and he leapt to his feet, defying the protracted muscles in his stomach, which demanded less mirth.

_- YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT ONE BARNEY BOY! – _Josh wrote, evoking a fake tremble from the recipient.

_- You say that every time, yet last time I checked, I was still breathing – _Barnell noted, roughly sketching a circle around 'still.'

_ - Consider yourself lucky that I'm lazy, Bohusk _– Josh wrote, with an animated smiley face at the end of his sentence.

- _Consider yourself lucky that I have a watch; you were meant to meet your parents five minutes ago! Ha Ha!_ -

Josh immediately checked the clock, and indeed, it was five past the hour. His writing exchanges with his neighbor had completely distracted him from the time.

He quickly mimed: _"I'm going to kill you,"_ before he dashed out of his bedroom, subjecting Barnell to the sight of his empty bedroom. His neighbor snorted at their banter, before closing the curtains and tucking himself into bed.

Josh cursed the size of his house. His front door was met by a sparkling staircase, which split the house into two wings. His parents' office was at the other side of the mansion; he would have to cross the top of the stairs and enter the other wing, before shambling down another set of spiral steps, which descended into the organs of the house. He would have to shuffle past the grand piano and cross the entrance to the game room, where the hood ornaments of the family's previous 'Rose Royce's' were exhibited.

His feet made a deep thucking sound on the marble as he sprinted in the direction of the office. He glided past many closed doors, most of which were rooms that Josh had never ventured into before. It wasn't as if he had never explored his own house, it was more the fact that the majority of his necessities could be met between the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, thus rendering other quarters of the house obsolete.

Josh wondered if he could complete his entire fitness session within the confines of his own home. It was possible after-all, judging on the amplitude of the building.

The teenager's legs came to a halt, when he found himself outside the office. With a knock on the towering alpine door, he was called in by a unison of frosty voices.

His mother and father sat at the other side of a long cherry-oak desk. Mr. Foley's fingers were intertwined on the table, while his mother twisted and fidgeted with a ruby ring above her knuckle.

Josh cursed their expectation of meticulous timing.

His father's gaze was evanescent, and his woebegone eyes fixed themselves on Josh, but as the teenager attempted to construct eye-contact, his father's head flicked downwards.

"Sorry, I'm late," Josh panted, as the last fibers of his energy sacrificed themselves to ameliorate the situation through an apologetic pretense, "I nodded off and when I woke up, I was late. Is everything okay? What did you need me for?"

His father's exasperation was apparent through his sigh. "Your mother and I have been waiting for you since 8pm. For you to barge in like this is completely unacceptable."

Josh's fingers pressed firmly into the chair as indignation filled him.

He distinctly remembered knocking.

"I don't recall barging, father," retorted Josh. "I knocked."

Josh's father slammed a hand on the desk, causing a prodigious thwack to echo down the halls.

"You will address me as Mr. Foley, and you will not back-answer me," he berated, opening his eyes capaciously and focusing on the teen with intensity.

"Now sit down and listen to what your mother has to say."

Fore-bearing his irritation, Josh lowered himself onto the chair, and brought his attention to his mother, who cleared her throat and looked at her son.

"Your father and I will be hosting a dinner party tomorrow night."

It was as Josh expected. His head filled with a plethora of images: carrying trays of finger-food to conceited CEO's and loud, pontificating firm-heads, while replenishing endless glasses of punch, and simultaneously trudging through crowds of people with a lighthouse-like migraine in his head.

"Mom, moth- err, Mrs. Foley, I haven't been feeling all that great today. I have a headache right here," he exclaimed, pointing to the apex of his head, "and my skin is hypersensitive. I don't think I'm well enough to work to a high enough standard."

His mother raised an eyebrow, and tapped her long nails on the desk.

"When did this come about?"

"On and off for a few months."

"You never told anyone? Dalores could have given you an aspirin," reminded his mother.

"Dalores has enough to do, I didn't want to bother her."

"A stoic decision," his father interjected, leaning back on his armchair and bringing his intertwined fingers to rest across his chest.

"But it is no excuse. You must help hand out refreshments to the guests. These people are very important to mother and I, and it's imperative that you impress them."

Josh remained silent as the pits of his stomach continued to churn at the earlier images in his head. His thoughts were inundated with lassitude, and suddenly everything he looked forward to that week, was befogged by the dread of the task before him. He was in no mood to be fake to people he didn't care about. The headache - which surged through his temples - overwrote any enthusiasm for conversation that managed to survive the _first_ beam of the migraine earlier.

.. But,

he trusted his parents. If they thought something was seriously wrong, they wouldn't have insisted that he help at he dinner party. At the end of the day, they were his parents and they loved him. Regardless of their differences, they would wish no harm upon him, and therefore, the pain in his head and the tingles on his skin must not be anything too severe.

"Okay, I'll help," he demurred, bringing a hand to ruffle through his locks. "But Dalores will be helping me, right?"

His parents nodded.

"Good!" The teen cheered. "Helping out a bit and making some conversation shouldn't be a problem, especially when Dalores is helping out."

His parents smiled aloofly, before rising to their feet.

"Well it seems we've discussed everything needed," Mr Foley concluded, extending a hand to his son who shook it concretely. "Dress in your most formal attire, and do what you always do at our little gatherings."

"Oh," Mrs. Foley interrupted, "and remember the _rule_."

Josh nodded courteously before heading for the door and commencing his trek back to his bedroom.

The meeting – although starting off rough – ended with a modicum of felicity. His father, in all his distance, _shook_ Josh's hand. Such an occurrence was rare, and defied the lack of warmth, that his parents' usually practiced. Tonight was a good night, and Josh allowed himself to inflate with the feelings of ebullience and joy. _His_ father, shook _his _hand, even in front of _his_ mother. It was just too good to be true. Such an extension of ardor from his father meant only one thing:

He _approved_.

Josh sought his father's approval since before he could remember. On television, he'd see Dads and sons fishing together, or fathers bringing their children to work; he could never understand why these activities were never be a part of his own childhood. He thought that maybe he was doing something wrong and that his father was angry at him, but, this didn't turn out to be the case, according to Dalores, who dismissed the notion with a: "your father is a busy man, but he loves you. Always has, always will."

If Josh was honest with himself, and his parents, he felt much closer to Dalores than he did to either of them. When he had a problem, he went to her; when he was in trouble, he went to her; when his grades began to slip, he went to her. Dalores was just the person he ran to in times of desperation. She was his mother, despite being void of such a title.

Josh entered his room and threw himself on the bed. Barnell's curtains were closed, but his light was on.

Josh needed to get pay back for Barney's earlier little _comment. _If he informed his neighbor that his parents "insisted," that he helped in the party after-all, Barney would have a field day with: "I didn't even _have_ to pay good money!" Josh grinned with mirthful anticipation.

He _couldn't_ let his friend win this one, not after the bashing he received in the earlier good-humored banter session. His phone lit up, and Josh braced himself for a question from Barnell who was most likely wishing to know The Foley's comments regarding their son's late arrival. His friend would most likely take great pleasure in knowing how deeply pissed off they were.

When Josh opened the message, he was surprised to see that it wasn't from Barnell:

_- Josh,_

_Gathering outside the mayor's office, Friday,_

_3:30pm, 150 others going._

_Hope to see you there,_

_Blair. –_

The teenager smiled to himself. His life felt so perfect: his father _shook_ his hand, he had found a true friend in Barnell, and he felt _appreciated_ by Blair and the others. It couldn't get better.

It was Wednesday night, and Josh knew he didn't have long to prepare for Friday's little gathering. He had run out of supplies to make his protest signs from the last gathering, so he'd need to text Barnell and ask him if he had anything he could borrow.

_- Need supplies for signs. You got any? – _He texted his friend.

Within seconds, his phone sang to him, and portrayed Barnell's reply:

_- Yes I do, but I'm going into the city early in the morning. If you want them, you'll have to come over now - _

Josh huffed and rolled his eyes; Barnell was _always_ so difficult.

Laughing at his exaggerated sigh, he tiptoed downstairs and exited his house.

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After climbing into Barnell's room through the window, Josh had been welcomed by an array of multi-colored markers, as well as long A2 sheets of paper.

"When is the protest?" Asked Barnell, scratching his messy, sandy colored hair with an inert swipe, as Josh focused on the page before him.

"Friday, mid-day," Josh replied demi-attentively, as his eyes scanned the paper. He lifted marker and began designing.

"Are you sure this whole thing is a good idea? I mean, whatever about your societal views, but don't you think that promoting hatred of any kind is bad?" Asked Barnell, positioning himself more comfortably on the bedframe.

The blonde stopped writing and directed his gaze upon his neighbor. With untoward eyes, Josh studied Barnell's face.

"We're not promoting hatred," he disavowed, "we're simply warning everyone about an impending danger. Blair opened my eyes to it."

Josh sat up and squinted at Barnell before continuing. "Why so circumspect?" He then cracked his knuckles with a nonchalant squeeze.

Barnell sighed, and pensively decided on a diplomatic approach to answering Josh's question.

"I guess I just don't believe in taking a definitive side," he admitted.

"But then you'll get caught in the cross-fire."

"Cross fire? Are you resorting to violence?"

"Of course not!" The blonde underscored, although his eyes were raconteurs, and vestured his assertion in uncertainty. "We, _as a whole_, do not resort to violence."

"But certain members in your organization have?" Barnell shot back, his supercilium draping over his eyes.

"On some occasions, yes," Josh remarked, wiping his palms on his jeans.

Barnell took a reluctant breathe of air before asking his next question. His attempts to eschew his curiosity had failed him.

"Have _you_ ever resorted to violence?"

The question hung in the air and cleaved to the walls like a soggy moss. The air thickened, and Josh stared vacuously at his poster. Nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Barnell admitted appositely. "I was just curious."

"No, it's a fair question," Josh murmured back, giving his locks a nervous flick,

"I haven't personally put my hand on anyone, but I once saw Blair do it. He asked me to watch, so that I could learn some day." Josh bit his bottom lip as a dark expression befell him. "I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't bothered by it, but Blair assured me that it was the right thing to do, that by doing what he did, he was actually protecting the public."

Barnell shuddered and felt a frisson crawl up his spine. "W.. who did he do it to? What did he do?"

"He wanted to scare this couple from having any more kids. He said that if he _ruffled up_ their youngest child, it would discourage them from having any more," Josh explained.

"Did he .. _kill_ the child?"

"No.. well, I don't _think _so."

Stalagmites dropped in the brunette's stomach, as Josh's unfazed exterior took him aback.

"But you were there? How could you not _think_ so?" He asked neutrally, rubbing his hands together with anxiety.

"He was alive when Blair left him on the street. But I don't know if he survived in recovery. Rumors around the organization say that he didn't, while others – including Blair - say that he's perfectly fine, but that the family simply moved out of the state. I'm not sure which is true," Josh apprised.

Barnell fell silent as Josh descended into thought.

Was he feeling guilty for these people? Did he regret not stopping Blair from hurting the boy? Josh shuddered and eschewed the thought, filing it away with haste.

What would Blair say if he caught him like this?

He giggled faintly at himself for over-thinking such a notion. _Of course _he didn't sympathize with them; that wouldn't be right _at all_. He _must've_ just gotten mixed up with his emotions under the scrutiny of Barnell.

"But it doesn't really matter if it's true or not," Josh declared, in light of his most recent thoughts, "the mystery surrounding the kid isn't relevant. If he's dead, we've done the public a service, and if he left the state, we've done the public a service. It's a win-win situation."

Barnell gulped at the ruthless tone to Josh's voice, and held back his natural reaction.

"Damn Foley, you really seem hate _them_."

"Yes I do! This is why I'm making the poster, remember? To strike against them and make sure the local government doesn't do anything stupid, like grant them rights. That would be unethical."

The neighbor stood to his feet and stepped closer to Josh. "Okay, putting aside all the shit that organization has put in your head, do you think you can really trust Blair? Look how brutal he was to that kid. What if someday, that kid is _you_? What if you do something wrong, and he turns on you?" Speculated Barnell, who tossed his head toward the sky as his mind explored the reaches of such a possibility.

"What if he leaves you for dead?"

"And why would he do that?" Josh asked, wholeheartedly flabbergasted.

"Because he can," answered Barnell as if it were obvious. "If he didn't think he'd get away with hurting that kid, he probably wouldn't have done it. That's the reason he chose the youngest child and not the eldest of that family. He went for the easy target."

"He would never do that!" Josh defended, growing slightly agitated with his friend's defiance towards Blair. "He's an honorable man."

Barnell laughed through the seeds of irritation, which stemmed from Josh's shear inability to see the obvious.

"I won't go any further into it with you. Let's agree to disagree, but just take one thing from this conversation: be careful around Blair, okay?"

Josh demurred with a deep breath, and expelled his defenses. "Okay fine, but you still owe me."

Barnell was taken aback, and looked at his friend with a wonky eyebrow. "Owe you for what?"

"You got me in shit with my parents for holding me up!" Josh laughed, feigning anger.

"Me?" Barnell replied innocently, "I did no such thing!"

"And then you insinuated that I was .. _small_!"

The scruffy haired neighbor burst out laughing, exposing a line of twisted, jagged teeth. "Okay, I admit, I _did_ do that."

Josh picked up his marker and chucked it at Barney. It landed with a plop, into a meadow of stringy hair on his head, which caused the boy to rub the disaster zone with renewed energy.

"You sneaky little –" grunted the neighbor before another marker whirled in the air and walloped into the tip of his nose.

"Ouch! Cut it out!" Barney laughed, patting his surroundings for something appropriate to throw back. He reached for a pillow with the intentions of having a shield. Another marker was catapulted, and - despite his newest defense mechanism- smacked Barnell in the temple.

"Okay, you got your payback! No more _size_ jokes!" He resigned, bringing the pillow to his face.

A proud Josh stuck his chest out and stood to his feet.

"Now that we understand each other, I should probably run back to my house before my parents get worried."

Barney stuck his tongue out at his friend, and dropped the pillow to his lap.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. God forbid Mommy might get angry."

The alarm clock at the bedside table was launched into the air before crashing right into Barney's chest with a shrill ring.

"You won't get away with that one Foley! You just wait!" Barnell yelped, waving one fist in the air, while the other massaged the new circular bruise forming on his stomach.

"I believe I've _already_ gotten away with it!" The blonde teen shot back.

Josh gathered up his posters and smiled, before he departed his friend's room.

He eluded through the hall, and gingerly opened the front door before slipping through. He stealthily crossed into his garden and advanced towards his own front door.

Not only did he have a good time with Barney, but, he realized something of even greater importance; something which made him want to spend more time with his neighbor:

He realized that having someone to chuck alarm clocks and markers at, felt _pretty damn good._

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Josh woke up the next morning with a pulsating headache. The pain screamed and whistled through his forehead with a merciless howl.

There was a shrill ringing in his ear; the tone ascended and shrieked inside his temples, causing his arms to jerk a little.

Sitting up on the bed, Josh massaged his head while taking long, and deep breathes. This headache was not letting up, and he genuinely questioned his stamina, as thoughts of the dinner party mocked his brain.

But after father _shook_ his hand, he needed to be there at the party. He couldn't let him down, and he certainly wouldn't leave Dalores to do all the work.

Gently pushing himself up from the bed, Josh dragged himself into the shower and allowed the water to breathe life into him. The steam twirled around his skin, before lapping into the beaded walls of the shower.

Feeling a little more human, he eventually dressed himself. It was 10am, and Barney would probably be in the city by now.

Leaving his room, a rich buttery aroma wafted past his nostrils and became more poignant as he descended. Taking a left when he reached the bottom of his marble staircase, Josh entered the kitchen and saw a familiar plump woman bent over, pulling a tray out of the oven.

She turned around and leaped slightly at the sight of him.

"Well I thought this would wake you!" She laughed, flicking the tray onto the kitchen counter. "They're almond and poppy-seed! Your favorite!"

Josh felt strings of warmth crawl through his diaphragm as she placed the cookies onto a plate. Her crumbled elbows swayed up and down as she prepared the second batch and slid them into the oven with ease. "Raspberry flavor coming up next!" She declared, walking to a chair and placing herself – along with the plate of cookies – down.

Josh copied her, and pulled up the chair across the table. The sizzling air above the cookies wiggled and slightly distorted his view of Dalores. He blew at them and reached for one.

"All ready for tonight?" She asked, softly taking a cookie for herself.

"No," he admitted, slumping his head towards the ground. "I'm feeling sick, but I told myself that I'm going to get on with it."

Dalores jumped to her feet and almost hopped over the table to Josh. The back of a hand slapped his forehead, causing him to jump a little bit as the tingling sensation on his skin began to sing.

"You're running a fever!" She said, panic seeping into her voice. "I'll talk with your parents, I can't let you be on your feet all night when you're like this!"

The memory of his father extending a hand to him glued itself to the fore-front of his mind.

"No, really, I'm okay!" He insisted, jumping up as if to prove his abilities. "I've never felt better!"

Dalores frowned, and reached for his hand, gently holding it in her own before continuing.

"Not _wanting_ to do something is completely different to not being _able to_. You are not able to do this tonight, not with a fever like that." She took a breath and continued, "your parents will understand. I'll ask them myself."

Josh used his free hand to play with his hair.

He knew Dalores was looking out for him, but he couldn't – _wouldn't_ – let his parents down after his father's previous _warmth_. If he wished to retain his father's attention, he'd need to meet the task at hand: sick, or not sick.

"Yesterday, Mr. Foley, erm .. Dad, shook my hand. I told him that I was sick and but that I was willing to help anyone. I think he respected the fact I made no big deal about it."

Dalores's eyes widened and her cheeks inflated a little further. Her frown didn't pass and Josh noticed that it almost _intensified_.

"I know that must have been a big step for him," she acknowledged, doing her best to dissect the imbroglio before her.

"And I know that you don't want to disappoint him. But, you're sick, sweetie. Not only should you be asleep, but you can't be around food when you could have a flu or virus."

Josh's chest flattened, and he realized that she was not only looking out for him, but everyone else as well.

She truly was a caring person.

Her care was sometimes alien to him; he never felt it before until he met her. Originally, the teenager thought she was out to get him, or that, she always had an underlying agenda.

However, he eventually came to realize that there would be no purpose for deception. She washed clothes; baked cookies; cleaned dishes and made beds. What ulterior motive could exist under these circumstances?

She just _cared_. There were no strings attached: whipping up batches upon batches of cookies didn't benefit her in any way, nor, was she paid anymore for producing them. She just liked making others happy, and this concept was once alien to Josh.

But she fixed that. Her mending of his distrust was a simple serendipity, which neither of them knew would be the missing puzzle piece in Josh's ability to care for others. She filled a part of him, which even _he_ didn't know existed.

"I don't have a flu or virus," Josh said with a warm smile, "I've had this headache for months now. It's at it's worst during the morning, but it tends to settle down by afternoon. By nighttime, I'll be as good as new."

Dalores seemed to demur, and gently wrapped a toasty hand around his neck. It appeared she was not going to be mulish today.

"Okay, but next time you're not feeling well, _please_ tell me," she groaned with a concerned frown.

"You know how I worry."

Her words encircled Josh for a moment before he responded:

"No need to worry! I'll tell you next time, okay?"

She smiled fervently before letting him go, ambling to the kitchen counter and brushing away some crumbs.

"Now why don't you get the tables ready in the living room, while I clean up around here?"

Josh smirked and snatched a cookie.

"Of course! I'll make sure to get some of my _flu_ on the forks!" He winked at his maternal figurehead before lightly skipping out of the room.

The maid in Dalores shuddered, before she remembered their earlier success in confirming that he didn't have a cold of any kind.

"That b_o_y," she drawled endearingly to herself, with an ardent smile.

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Josh's legs experienced minor ataxia, and he fell to his knees with a gasp. Dalores's humming from outside seemed to muffle his wheezing, as a needle-like sensation pinned through his leg.

The tingling sensation had besieged his flesh, numbing and gnawing at it at simultaneously. Before, it had been exclusive to the tips of his nerves; for it to travel into the cores of his body, worried Josh immensely.

The blonde groaned as he helped himself to his feet, leaning on his 'good leg,' as he pressure-tested the other. The pain waned, and save the goldenrod bruise forming on his knee, Josh suddenly felt completely unimpaired.

Dismissing it as a dead-leg, Josh continued to clear the clutter in the living room – where the guests would eventually be.

It took a lot of work to make the rooms suitable for guests. Due to the size of the house, dust bunnies seemed to enjoy gathering in corners and windowsills; Dalores had warned him especially of these, as she was usually their executioner and knew of all their hiding places.

Josh had been successful in tidying the rooms and thus allowed himself to unwind on the sofa. The living room certainly looked more prestigious since he attacked it with his cleaning supplies.

A circular table held the notorious fruit-punch, which Josh acquainted himself with. The sofa sat in the middle of the room and angled itself towards the plasma television, which boasted itself on the wall. The walls were a creamy lavender and gasconaded the acclaimed works of local artists; one of the pictures portrayed three green hills: gently obscuring their boarders and creating a corrugated flow to trickle down the junctions.

It was the first time Josh had seen the picture.

The floor was buttressed with teakwood and raised slightly in the corner to serve as a miniscule stage. The stereo towered in the opposite corner and gently bombilated a tune.

Stepping back, he admired his work.

Despite his sickness, he had cleaned the most prominent room in the house, and could now safely call it the cynosure of the establishment.

Dalores's touch evoked a sparkle in the kitchen: The counters gleamed and the newly wiped windows thanked her in the form of extra- scintillating light. She sat with a puff and dropped the cleaning supplies to her sides.

"Living-room cleaned?" She asked, wiping her forehead.

"Yes it is!" Josh chirped, stepping aside and allowing her to view the other room.

"My my! The guests will be very impressed with you!" She opined, grinning widely towards Josh.

"Yeah, impressed with mother and father's _choice of cleaning company,_more-like," he replied.

Dalores lifted a brow and folded her arms in bewilderment. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"We have this _rule_," Josh continued, as he fiddled with his thumbs, "that if anyone makes a compliment, I must direct it back towards mother and father."

Dalores's expression intensified and the corners of mouth separated as her lips opened a little. She seemed as if she didn't _quite_ hear him.

"I'm afraid I'm still a little lost," she admitted, "could you give me an example?"

Josh nodded and took a breath. "If one of the guests were to compliment something about _me,_ lets say, my hair, I would have to say, 'I'm just lucky that I was born with my mother's hair,' or something," Josh explained. "I don't really mind. It's just an inconvenience because saying 'thank you,' is just so much easier." He smiled hopefully, wishing to evoke a facsimile from Dalores, but failed in his attempts.

"Why sweetheart," she gasped, "that is truly.. _uncanny_."

Josh's head perked up. "How so?"

Dalores brought her voice to a whisper after reminding herself that she was still under the roof of the Foley's home.

"They wish for you to direct every compliment back towards them? Why _Josh_, honey, that is simply egotistical beyond words."

Josh's stomach plummeted; were his parents really that self-indulged? He thought that it was simply one of their ways of impressing their guests. Was he wrong?

"I thought it was mother and father trying to paint themselves in the best possible light," Josh said, unsure whether he was _asking_ or _reinforcing_.

"It doesn't matter, sweetie," answered Dalores matter-of-factly, "they shouldn't use you to feed their egos. That's wrong. Imagine if I took the credit for cleaning the living room, after all the effort you put into it? You would be angry! And quite rightly so!"

Josh conceded. Had some_one _taken responsibility for cleaning the room that he worked so hard cleaning, he _would_ be angry. What was the difference between that and a _'wonderful cleaning company,_' doing it? He realized that Dalores was right; it was wrong of them to force him to bounce compliments back towards them.

Suddenly the sublimity behind his father's handshake began to wither.

"You're right," he sighed, "I should've seen that. I'm sorry." He tilted his head and faced the floor.

The round maid suddenly embraced him in a hug. The ardor she expressed wrapped around him like a heated coat, and he felt himself melt into her.

"Never apologize for being wronged, Josh. Always remember that."

They stood in the center of the kitchen. The silence – in and of itself – said enough. Words were left behind, and their inactivity spoke a thousand sentences.

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"We'd love to stay late, but the jet's been organized to leave very early in the morning," said one of the guests and she gulped the remnants of her wine.

These were the kinds of conversations Josh had to partake in. He had to consciously remind himself to upkeep his pretense of enthusiasm, as he felt his beclouded disinterest seep through the exterior.

Josh was yet to find himself submitting to the terms of the _rule. _He had received a few compliments from the guests, and instead of directing them towards his parents, he embraced them with a simple 'thank you.' Josh couldn't help but feel slightly liberated.

Suppressing a yawn, he excused himself from the conversation on a point of personal privilege. As he advanced towards the restroom, he noticed Dalores doing her best to hold her own in a conversation regarding the reduced recline of chairs in the first class seating area of airplanes. His acumen told him that she _would pay good money_ to escape such a confabulation, and he pondered methods of sparing her. It seemed the woman engaging Dalores in conversation wasn't going to let her off the hook to easily, and Josh decided that his presence would just add to the audience, and give her more of a reason to babble. With a sympathetic sigh towards the maid, he entered the restroom.

As the night matured and the trays of finger food dwindled to a few meager pieces of meat, Josh felt as if he was going to collapse. The tingles on his skin surged through his bones and his strobe-lightish migraine began to creep nearer to the back of his head. His vision had progressively degenerated through-out the night, but Josh attributed this towards fatigue.

The teenager shuddered at the thought of a coin meeting the floor; A shrill noise of the likes, would certainly be a nail in his coffin.

His skin was on end.

Dalores had cleaned up the dregs of the now departed guests and she too insinuated the need for sleep. With a nod from the Foley's, she was granted her leave, and thus grabbed her handbag and headed for the door, but not before saying goodbye to the teenager.

"Remember what I said," she whispered, before kissing him on the cheek. "I'm always here for you."

Dysphoria surged through him as the concept of being lonely in his bedroom began to consume him. Ever since he was ten years old, the sadness he felt when Dalores had to leave, never degenerated; it was a chronic emotion and always seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach.

"I know," he whispered back wistfully, "thank you for everything."

She accentuated her smile before turning for the open door and advancing towards her car. She looked back once; her eyes spoke a million words, and Josh raised a flat palm and swayed it side-to-side. They were both thinking the same thing, but their body language made speech redundant.

He could read it in her face; he could see that she wished to say three simple words:

_"I love you."_

Josh watched his _mother_ drive away, and couldn't help but feel his melancholy intensify at her departure.

He couldn't lie to himself any longer:

He wanted to go with her.

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That night had not been easy for Josh. All attempts of dormir were made, but it seemed as if his headache cheated his need to sleep.

Blair had texted him earlier: reminding him of the upcoming protest. Josh again, questioned his abilities to involve himself. This _illness_ was zapping every fragment of power in his body, and his willpower had dipped beyond the trenches of zero, and into the negative.

His optical haziness had not cleared since arriving in his room either, and Josh could feel the inauguration of a strep throat. When he wished his mother – his biological one- goodnight, a croak had supplanted his words, a testament to his occult malady.

With permission to retire, Joshua cuddled into his bed, and endeavored sleep.

Of course, dormancy did not immediately claim him the way his thoughts did. He mentally prepared himself for the next day: the protest.

Similarly to his parents, Josh couldn't let Blair down. The last time Josh saw the man, he was told of how much of an _asset_ he was to the organization. Save Dalores and Barnell, nobody had ever made Josh feel so wanted before.  
He experienced something foreign when Blair informed Josh of his importance to the team; it was a conflated feeling of raw warmth and joy, and Josh allowed himself to embrace the surge of bliss, which billowed to the tips of his fingers and toes, as a result. Yet, a furtive awareness assumed itself within this formula: Josh couldn't help but feel slightly, even _just _a little bit, over his head. And then the offspring of felicity and uncertainty trickled through his nerves.

He saw what Blair could do – _would_ do – and never wished to incur the same wrath unleashed upon that young teenager - the one he spoke of to Barney.

Conversely, Blair and the others felt like family to him; the family he never had. His mind darted back to that drizzly September twilight, when he first met Blair. The man recognized Josh's lethargy and his desolation of zeal; he knew that Josh needed a constant in his life: something that dwelled beyond the dimensions of currency and economics, but also was not fickle and subject to change.

What Josh needed, was a cause.

.. And Blair gave him just that.

Josh's thoughts became more, and more soporific, causing his eyelids to weigh themselves over his eyes.

The question of Blair's affiliation was a heavy dissertation in his mind, and was not a subject he dabbled in often.

Whatever Blair _did_ in the past, Josh was certain that he had good reason to do so. Without him, Josh argued that he wouldn't be half the person he was today. Even when he was at his worst, Blair saw something in him. The more Josh learned about what the organization did, and what they represented, Josh started to find a _reason_.

Fatigue pressed itself onto him, like a thick humidity, and Josh could feel his consciousness gently ebb away.

Tomorrow was a new day, holding new experiences for him. The thought of being surrounded by Blair and the others, ignited the flame of content in his belly. His ease allowed his worries and thoughts to slip away, and his heed finally submitted to the axioms of his enervation.

_Then _he fell asleep.

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"Joshua, wake up!" A voice shouted from outside.

The teenager's head was muffled with a deep fog, and the sounds around him merged with the baritone rumble from behind his temples.

His skin was completely numb. Even the notorious tingling sensation had withered away to non-existence. He attributed the feeling – or lack of – to a pinched nerve.

"Sorry! I'm awake!" He assured, jumping out of bed and leaping towards the door.

He was unsure to how long his mother had been outside his room. It was unlike him to sleep so heavily, but due to his _flu_ Josh gave himself a break.

Unbeknownst to the teenager, as he neared the entrance to his room, he also neared the most drastic change in his existence:

It was _this_ moment that Josh's life changed forever. _This_ turn of the handle; _this_ opening of the door; _this_ breath he took, would be the last within the walls of his normal life.

As the physical separation between he and his mother was pulled away, he exposed himself in the doorway of his bedroom.

Her eyes opened wide and bled with abhorrence, hysteria and shock. "J.. Josh, what did you _do?_" She screamed, taking a step backwards and placing her hands in front of her. "Please tell me that's not real?"

A bewildered Josh looked at his mother before raising a brow. "Mom, what's wrong? What're you talking about?"

"Y.. your s.. skin!" She shrieked, throwing herself against the wall behind, using distance as her protection.

Josh rolled up his sleeve and brought his arm close to his eyes.

And there it was.

Josh's skin had been blanched of it's peach color, and instead was ventured in a flat, crystallized and golden surface. Horror and panic stabbed him in the back as the shock embedded a mental knuckle into his temple.

"Mom, I.. I! Help me! Mom! Help!" He screamed, running towards her, only to be knocked backwards with a cottony slap to the face.

Not only did she slap him away physically, the impact of her bag touching his face sent a surge of realization through Josh. He felt the human inside step out of his body without even a goodbye. With the death of his skin color, came the death of the person he once knew.

His mother's icy eyes scanned him with reluctance. Neither of them moved – or even blinked – as they stared into each others' eyes.

Fear, remorse, and .. _disgust_ wept from her pupils, as faint shrieks emitted from the back of her throat.

"Mom, I don't know what's happened. You need to bring me to the hospit-"

"No!" She roared,murdering the words on Josh's lips. "You will _not_ be seen with that .. that _ornamentation _on your skin!"

Tears built up in the golden teenager's eyes, gently blobbing out and rolling down a hardened crystal cheek.

Was this the outcome of that recurring migraine and skin sensitivity?

"It's still me Mom!" Josh cried, sliding down the wall and onto the floor. "You need to help me! Maybe I've got skin condition; you need to bring me to a doctor!"

His mother ignored him as bitter tear tinkled down her own face. "There's only one place for a _mutant_," she growled, before backing away slowly and turning towards the stairs.

"Your father needs to see this."

… _Josh sought his father's approval since before he could remember …._

"He'll decide what to do with _you_," she seethed, gritting her teeth. "How could you do this to us? Our _reputations_! Our _careers_! We're the parents of a beast!"

Her words pierced Josh. They punctured that part of him that Dalores had filled with her love and care. His ability to _love _and _hope_ bled out of him, as her tongue slapped against her front teeth, forming the very words that sliced through his innocence.

Josh never noticed the approach of his father, who halted at the sight of his offspring, before looking at his wife.

"What happened to him? Is this some kind of joke?" He groused, his eyes flicking between Josh and Mrs. Foley.

"Does it look like a joke?" She spat, pointing at Josh's face. "Touch it, his skin is completely hard, and .. golden. He's one of those mutants."

His father's eyes descended onto his cowering son, who was curled against the wall, and shivering in fear and aghast.

"My.. _My_ son is a .. _mutant_?"

Josh longed for someone's embrace. He was alone, and void of Dalores and Barney, the two people that would understand him. He needed someone to tell him that it'll be alright.

His father looked weak at the knees. "Sweetheart," he said, addressing his wife, "we need to get him out. Nobody can know."

Josh's mother looked at Josh with eyes full of daggers and fury, before turning back to her husband. "You're right. Imagine what he'd do to our reputation: the _parents of a mutant_."

Her words punched his father in the stomach, as he looked to the sky with watery shields over his eyes.

"Why? What did we do to deserve this?" He didn't seem to address anybody in the room. Josh was unbeknownst to the recipient of his words, until he realized that his father was questioning the intentions of God.

"I gave 2.5% of my business assets to charity, and yet my son – my _only_ son – becomes a mutant. _Why_?" He fell to his knees and began to sob into his hands. Ms. Foley crawled to her spouse and gently rocked him back and forward, with her arms around his broken frame.

"We'll get through this," she assured, shooting a glare of blame towards her son, "this wasn't _our_ fault."

Josh's body, nerves, emotions .. they were all numbed. He couldn't feel his now-hard skin, but simply experienced a tight sensation around his body; it was as if he had been left to harden in a mould of golden cement, or a smooth, rocky, virus had crawled up and around his body, tainting it with a rustic hue.

Josh's mind flashed to those comic book characters that were made of rock and had chunky shale-like exteriors. This wasn't the case for him. The newly golden crystallization of his skin, didn't add any new layers of mineral; it was simply his own skin, but just harder, golden and marble-like.

"There's a school," declared Mrs. Foley, ripping Josh from his brief mental repose, "its for people like _him_."

"What's it called?" Asked her husband, wiping away his tears and sniffing away a whimper, "where in the country is it?"

Mrs. Foley shook her head, as the ghost of the memory mocked her heed. "It's on the east coast. It's called –" She sewed her eyes together in concentration, before almost leaping to her feet when she remembered. "Xaviers! It's called Xaviers! It's a school for _his_ kind."

_.. his _kind, _his_ type, his _people.._

Blair's face, along with every word he ever spoke to Josh, cleaved itself into his head, before the teenager's heartbeat quickened and he leapt to his feet.

"No!" He roared, clenching two golden fists together. "I'm _not_ a mutant, there's been a mistake! Blair would never have spoken to me if he thought I'd become one. Please! This is some kind of trick. _Mom_, _Dad_, you need to listen to me. I'm _Josh_! I haven't changed! I'm _your_ son!"

Aghast had imbued his words to a degree Josh had never felt before. His very being was suspended in a limbo of disbelieve and tribulation. On one end, he felt as if his emotions were in a deep comatose, yet, the factors which hushed this ability to feel, were vigorous and thriving.

Identifying _how_ he was feeling, or _what_ he was feeling, became a shapeless task and Josh could no longer distinguish the boarders of one emotion from the other.

His self-perception and definition hanged themselves parallel to his mutation. The formations of his humanity crumbled beneath him, as he spiraled to his demise, and into a turbulent macrocosm of chaos and anomaly.

"He'll leave as soon as possible," she concluded, before turning to Josh and addressing him: "You will stay in your room until told otherwise. I will call this school and insist that you are given a place. You will not call or text anyone."

Josh remained frozen to the wall, with his head in his arms and his body curled up as close as his spine would allow. He tried to convince himself that this was a dream, that somebody spiked his drink at the party and his deepest troubles were surfacing as a result.

As his parents floated away in disbelief, Josh remained on the floor, defiant that none of this was real, and that he would wake up any second.

He was Joshua Foley. There was no way he could be a mutant. It wasn't possible. Would he ever see Dalores again? By what means could he communicate with Barnell? What would he say to Blair?

He began to fear for his life at the thought of Blair, and suddenly, Barnell's words began to sting his mind:

_.."Look how brutal he was to that kid. What if someday, that kid is you? .." _

Images of that violent night charged to the fore-front of his mind and rammed into his consciousness, causing him to jerk his head upwards.

It became too much. His threshold began to vomit his fear, disgust, self-loathe and anguish. Like lights slowly flicking off down an empty hall, Josh's brain shut down, and the teenager's head gently fell back into his arms.

His life had changed, forever.

**s££££££££££££££££££££££s**

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Josh's eyes began dry, and salty crystals formed around his lashes. The memories of his transformation tore at his stomach with vicious swipes, and his recollection of his parents' words and reactions thumbed his throat with malicious pressure.

His dorm was completely empty. Most other students had roommates, but Josh seemed to be an exception, as the bed beside his own remained completely untouched.

However, he _did_ notice a box containing a few odd items before Laurie had interrupted his night. It was pushed against the wall, under the empty bed, but he had no idea who it belonged to, or to the reasons why someone would leave their belongings in a room, which they didn't reside in.

Again, it didn't appear as if he had a roommate, so he decided that he'd run it past his _'friend,_' Laurie Collins, in the morning, and see if she knew who the crate belonged to.

His zapped body remained panned out on his single-bed. He had no more energy to dwell on the past. He needed to remain vigilant from now onwards. Blair had stopped texting him after a few days of his transformation, and Josh feared that somehow, he'd found out.

Blair was a resourceful and dangerous man. Sending someone to 'check,' on Josh, wouldn't be much of a surprise to him.

Conversely, Josh remembered the piece of himself he left with Blair and the others. They saved his kindheartedness by plugging the vacuity of distrust in his nature, and Josh found himself feeling wistful and wishing to be back in their company. Aside from Dalores, they offered him meaning, values, and something to work for. He could never forget the purpose that Blair injected into his life.

But as two conflicting emotions – doubt and longing – warred with each other inside his mind, Josh heard the opening of a metallic clasp at the window.

Suddenly, doubt decapitated his longing, and fear of Blair's 'check up,' raced into his mind.

_This is it. He's come for me. _

The golden mutant stepped back, and reached for a baseball bat that he brought from California. A head poked into the curtains and slowly pulled it's body forward. As the curtains separated, and Josh's fingers gripped tighter to the neck of the bat, a head of auburn locks exposed itself, before exhibiting the body of a male, who seemed to be around Josh's age, or perhaps to his senior.

It didn't seem to be Blair.

The auburn teenager looked up at the shivering Josh and smiled warmly.

"You must be Josh. My name is Jay Guthrie. I'm your roommate."

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Hope you all enjoyed reading Chapter 2 as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	3. And This Worry is my Only Friend

Here we are with Chapter 3! Just wanted to thank all of you who've been reading thus far. Just a few notes for this chapter:

** Any text between two stars denotes lyrics to a song.

_Italics_ usually indicates thoughts.

The lyrics used in this chapter are from "Human," by The Killers.

Just to mention: The reason Barnell and Josh didn't just text each other during their written, window communication was because .. well, erm.. they.. erm, just didn't. Phones are over-rated in the X-Men world anyway ;).

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"Why the _hell_ are you crawling through the window?" Josh barked, dropping the baseball bat to his side, before leaning up against the wall, in an attempt to bolster himself up to appear bigger than he actually was.

"Because if I was caught in the halls this late, I'd probably be reprimanded," Jay responded calmly, walking to his bed and gingerly placing himself down.

"You could have warned me that you were going to pop through the window at 4am!" Josh hissed, although he was unaware of any method the mutant could have warned him, but he remained vexed anyway.

"Yes, yes I could have. You have my apologies."

A little deflated by his roommate's immediate nonchalant recognition of his own fault, Josh huffed and plopped himself on the bed. The fear of a visit from Blair gently drained from his gut.

"For what reason would you be out this late?" The golden mutant growled under his breath, before wiping his eyes.

"Watching the stars," his roommate replied duly, slinging his legs onto the bed and placing his head onto the pillow. "I usually sit on top of the shelter of the balcony below us."

Despite Josh's dramatic exhalation of disapproval, Jay remained silent and didn't say another word. His laconic approach threw Josh off a bit; compared to the other mutants – such as Laurie, Ben and Megan – this Jay didn't seem to pry into his life, or engage in useless small-talk. As the time ticked and the auburn haired student remained silent, Josh considered shifting the title of 'least annoying mutant,' from Laurie to him. At least _this_ mutant knew when, and _how_, to keep his mouth shut.

He wasn't happy about having to share a room with a mutant, but Josh was, in a way, lucky that his roommate didn't seem to be a person of many words. The worst thing that could have happened was that he was roomed with someone like Megan, who was the type that could babble through a sewn mouth, if possible.

The sun started to rise and Josh's awareness of the mutant beside him began to slip. Finally, his ability to sleep blossomed inside him, and he felt his mind drift away slowly, like a weak sailboat flowing away with the gentle billows of the ocean.

His worries melted.

His anxiety crumbled.

His insecurities suspended.

Sleep blew away his fears as a wind claiming the seeds of a dandelion.

Until...

*_ARE WE HUMAN, OR ARE WE DANCER?*_

Josh leapt to his feet with a roar. He was suddenly stabbed by a fit of disorientation, which twirled his vision in circles as he wobbled from leg to leg. He slapped his face before steadying his head and blinking through droplets of moisture on his eyelashes.

"What the _hell_?" He shrieked, eyeballing the room for the source of such a racket.

The volume of – whatever it was – was loud enough to wake the entire leg of the dorms.

_*And I'm on my knees, searching for the answer.*_

Josh's wits began to come about him, and his attention was drawn to the drawer across the room, where the radio was situated on the top. He could almost _see_ the sound waves blurting out of the speakers.

_*And so long to devotion, you taught me everything I know.*_

The golden teenager approached the radio and raised a fist over it. He was in no mood to untangle wires and search for outlets to turn it off, so he decided that destroying it would be the most efficient – and irrevocable - option. Besides, smashing something felt like the panacea of which he most definitely needed.

*_Wave goodbye, wish me well.*_

He laughed inwardly at the radio's last words, before his fist walloped into the top of it, and caused it to groan and dribble its lyrics away, until it fell completely silent.

_And that – ladies and gentlemen – is how you destroy a malfunctioning radio. _

The golden teen then peered over at Jay, who didn't even stir throughout the commotion; he slept above the blankets, wearing a white v-neck t-shirt, and his hands intertwined across his chest. Josh noted his lack of motion and wondered how it was possible for someone to sleep with such stillness, in spite of the loud interruption from the radio.

With a shrug, he slung himself onto his bed and allowed his head to nuzzle back into the pillows. He had no mental drive after his retrospective experience a few hours before and the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of _mutants _gave him feelings reminiscent of those he felt before the _dinner party_.

The morning matured, and the sun ensconced itself firmly in the sky. Josh had nodded off again and this time, remained undeterred by the chirps of the early birds, and the newborn pillars of light that gently pressed into the dorm.

Jay too, remained in his slumber. It was Sunday morning, and the majority of students had no classes, but they _were_ required to wake up before 12.30pm for breakfast or brunch.

The auburn headed student's phone began to beep, and the screen flickered on and off. Jay's eyes flicked up instantly, and he reached for his phone before subduing the gentle noise with a press of a button.

He changed clothes and quietly opened the window, before throwing himself out and plummeting towards the grass.

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Josh eventually woke up and checked his watch to see that it was 11am. Despite his lack of rest, his brain wouldn't allow him to sleep for one long period of time, but rather, in one or two hour segments.

As he sat up on the bed, he noticed that Jay was nowhere to be seen. His eyes inspected the room for his roommate, until he heard a hollow knock on the egress.

_If it's Lauren, or Laurie, or whatever, so help me God. I won't be able to be civil this early in the morning. _

He ambled to the door – at his own pace – and gently opened it, simultaneous to a rub of his head.

At the sight before him, Josh wished that it _was_ Laurie. Staring back at him, was a large – _monstrous_ – beast, with oxford blue fur; his hair merged with his beard and the bristly fusion of the two sprung out from the sides of his face. His countenance seemed to retain human qualities, with his nose, mouth and facial structure bolstering the features of a homosapien, but as the teen widened his visual perspective, the man's body and frame seemed to transmute into those of a canine.

He was wide, and his posture was slightly curved; Josh wasn't sure if he was a wolf, a human or a mutant, but decided that he didn't want to find out. His heart palpitated at the sight of the animal, and fear licked his skin, in the form goose-bumps.

The beast eyeballed him from behind his small rectangular glasses before speaking.

"Joshua Foley. My name's is Dr. Hank McCoy. I wanted to welcome you to the academy. I hope you're settling in nicely."

Josh attempted to speak, or say _something_, but his throat collapsed around his words and a stammer croaked from the bowels of his voice box.

The beast chuckled and twirled a pen between his long black nails, before raising it to the clipboard against his chest.

"I do apologize. I understand my appearance can be rather intimidating to a new student. I assure you, there is nothing to fear. This is just a side-effect of my powers," he said warmly. "Many of the students call me 'Beast -' a term of endearment, despite the implication."

Images of Josh's introduction to Ben flushed into his mind. He feared that shunning a handshake from this _Beast _would not have the same effect as it did on the firey student. In other words, he wished to _keep_ his face and thus decided to swallow his pride and shake the animal's hand – or paw - if need be.

"W.. what do you need me for?" The teen asked, taking a subtle step back.

"It appears my mind isn't working at its normal speed today!" Beast laughed, "I am the school's doctor, surgeon, scientist and biologist. I was just hoping to see you in my clinic before classes start tomorrow."

_Over my dead body._

"I..Clinic? I don't.. No. I'm not going to any clinic."

The doctor retained his smile, and mimicked Josh by taking a step back, to give the student some space.

"Every student goes through an evaluation," he said fervently. "I assure you, it's nothing frightening. It's just to file your abilities into the database."

"I don't know my abilities. All I know is that my skin is hard and golden, and that's all there is to know," Josh said, with fear and anger dabbling in the tones of his voice.

"It's rare that a mutant would have _only_ a skin mutation," McCoy responded. "Usually they are a side effect of a larger, underlying mutation."

"I don't breathe fire, or have wings, if that's what you're thinking. Now that you know everything, I'd like to be alone."

The biologist's eyes began to look _into_ Josh, rather than _at_ him.

"Joshua," he said firmly. "I'm not going to push you as it's your first full day here. But, I must inform you that for the sake of the other students, I will insist that you permit me to carry out some tests, in the near future."

_That puts me at ease, thanks._

"Ok," he growled, before twirling himself behind the door and attempting to close it. But, Hank's colossal hand gripped the edge of the door and halted Josh in his efforts.

"Breakfast ends in less than an hour, Josh, I recommend you go to the cafeteria and eat something. I don't want to see you go hungry."

The marble-like teen grunted in response and shut the door. He waited until he heard the beast's footsteps fade into the depths of the corridor, before he sighed with relief, and leaned against the door before closing his eyes.

'_Survive a horror flick;' I can tick that one off the list._

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"What a pain in the ass," said Noriko, stuffing a corner of her toast into her mouth. "I don't know how you put up with it for so long. I would've boxed his face in after the first insult."

Ben snorted and Laurie remained undeterred.

"Ah know, Nor, that's why Emma asked me'n not you," Ben remarked through a deep giggle.

"I'm just sayin', she replied. "Maybe a punch would do him some good, y'know, teach him who's boss."

"If a handshake nairly put'im into a seizure, then ah think a punch would be the death of'im."

"Then let it be!" Noriko declared. "The fewer of the likes of him around, the better."

Laurie shifted uncomfortably in her seat before clearing her throat. Ben nudged Noriko as a warning, sensing Laurie's disapproval of their words, but with no interest in vibes or hidden messages, Noriko spoke aloud:

"What's _your_ opinion of him, Laurie?"

"Of who?" Laurie asked, erecting a pretense of naivety.

"The new kid. Golden one. Blonde hair."

"_Josh?"_

"Yeah."

"He's okay, why?"

"You don't seem angry."

"Why would I be angry?" Laurie asked.

Noriko sighed and wiped her forehead.

"Because he hates mutants."

"You don't know that for sure."

"Well I've heard enough to know it," Nori replied, looking towards Ben for reassurance, but instead received an empty glance.

"He's just upset. There's nothing wrong with that," Laurie said defensively, folding her arms.

"Aw the poor baby!" Noriko drawled. "He must miss Mommy's credit card and Daddy's cars! What will he _do_ without them?"

"Blame us," Ben interjected with a smirk.

"C'mon guys, he's not _that_ bad. I was with him last night and he's actually okay. Definitely out of his element, but he's still a nice guy."

"Since I first came here," Nori interrupted, disregarding Laurie's defensive statement, "I've seen a lot of stressed new students, but none of them had the nerve to speak like _that_."

A shiver ran up Laurie's spine when she realized that Nori was referring to Josh's outburst in the cafeteria - the outburst that Ben had mentioned. "There's something up with him, Laur. I just want to meet him, just so he'll insult me and give me a reason to jolt him."

"Is that what you do to all the new students?" Laurie asked, becoming progressively more irritated with Noriko's lack of compassion.

"No. Just the ones like him."

"_Ones? _So you have experience _jolting_ new students who speak out of line?"

"Jeez, calm down, I'm only kidding," Noriko disavowed, waving her hand in front of her face dismissively. "But if he _did_ pass a comment in my direction, then I'd have to go back on that one."

"He's upset, not stupid," Laurie remarked, sticking her tongue out at her friend. "I think he'll come to know that passing _any_ comment in your direction wouldn't end nicely."

Noriko stuck her chest out proudly and blew on a line of her fingernails. "Damn right."

From behind her friend, Laurie could see the doors of the cafeteria creep open and gently fall back to their hinges. Josh quietly entered the cafeteria without a stir, and hovered around the entrance. Without moving her gaze, she traced his steps and watched him, as he awkwardly began to line up by the trays.

Ben followed her sight and noticed whom she was staring at. Not wishing to bring him to Noriko's attention, Ben stayed quiet, but fixed his eyes on Laurie, who seemed to be donating the panoply of her attention to the golden teen.

Noriko single-handedly carried the conversation herself, and dictated the topics; she weaned it to her hatred of skirts, jewellery, Emma Frost, dangly earrings, and eventually, snobby students in the school. Laurie had lost track of the order long before Josh entered the dome, but she was glad that Noriko was _at least _talking, and not making herself aware of the blonde teenager's entrance.

After deciding that it was best to not bring any unnecessary attention to the golden student, she turned her head back towards her friends, and was met with a concerned look from Ben.

In response, she shrugged and tilted her head to the side. The '_stop worrying about me_,' look was interpreted perfectly by Ben, who shot a _'be careful around him,_' expression right back. The two fell silent, and enshrouded their taciturn behavior behind Noriko's rambling.

As Laurie dipped in and out of her friend's words, she realized that Noriko had now moved onto speaking about her distaste of perfume.

"A lick of deodorant is enough. Why do girls have to douse themselves with _so_ much perfume? It makes me want to vomit! I mean, I'm walking down the halls and then I inhale a cloud of poison from one of the cheerleaders," she vented, her fingers clicking and wriggling with expression. "Laurie, you're a girl that wears perfume, right? Why do you feel the need to smell so flowery?"

Laurie's eyes had, _again_, found themselves upon Josh, who was now sitting alone and poking at a plate of greens.

"Laurie? Anybody home?"

With a faint gasp, she flicked her eyes back to Noriko and smiled awkwardly. "Flowery? Yes, I, erm, I like flowers."

Noriko lifted an eyebrow before turning to Ben.

"See? She's blonde to the core," she chortled, sticking her tongue out at Laurie in revenge.

However, Ben's gaze had fixed itself on Laurie, and hers too, had come to meet his, and they initiated an 'eye' debate.

"Is everybody on standby today? What's wrong with you two? Can't you answer a simple question?"

Both mutants jumped in their seats before babbling over their words, with every attempt to prove their attentiveness.

"Blonde, yeh. Wait? Ah'm not blonde?" Ben defended, his befuddled thoughts on display.

"That's not what I said," Noriko sighed. "Is there something going on?"

Laurie slipped into the chair and Ben began subtly counting the panes of glass that surrounded them.

"Nobody's going to answer me? Fine. I have training to do anyway. Sort your shit out, guys."

With a huff, the student stood to her feet and marched away from the table, leaving the brooders to the company of each other.

"Did you _have_ to do that?" Laurie moaned, with soreness latching to her pitch.

"Wasn't doin' anythin' Laur, otha than makin' sure that the novelty'v this new kid is wearing off, but it doesn' seem so," he replied, pupils focused on her. "He's not right, Laur. Why're you fussin' over'im, and starin' at'im?"

"I'm staring because I'm worried about him. I'm worried he'll _leave_."

"Why would'e do tha'? He'd get'imself shot out in public with skin like tha'. In all his issues, Laur, Ah don't thaink he's stupid."

"I know, but _last night_.." She sighed, "_Last night_, I told him something I shouldn't have. I told him that Emma doesn't chase after people that leave. I told him that if he leaves, it's his choice. At first, I was glad that it put him at ease, but now I'm worried that he'll act on it. What if he leaves and gets himself killed? I could never live knowing that I walked someone to his death," Laurie explained, pinching the bridge of her nose with lament. "I feel like if I do something, if I were to be a friend to him, he'd be less likely leave, because he'd have a cause. In fact, that's exactly what he needs, except he needs a cause _to stay_."

Ben's crackling amber eyes popped open, only to be shaded by the descent of a wispy brow.

"Why did'ya tell'im that?" He replied with consternation. "Why would'ya tell a new'nd confused student somethin' like tha? Of course he'll think abou'actin' on it! All new students hate it 'ere at first!"

"I _know_!" She drawled with a moan, "I know that _now, _but he seemed so uneasy when I was helping him fold clothes, and I thought that if I told him that, he'd relax because he wouldn't feel like he's in a prison."

"The reason 'e was so uneasy, Laur, was because yer a mutant, and'e hates us. He made tha' fairly clear yesterday."

Laurie groaned into her palms, as she allowed her head to sink into her hands. "_Why_ did I say that? _Why_ did I think that he'd stay if he knew he could leave? _Of course_ he'll try to leave if he knows he can. Any new student would."

A pang of guilt hit Ben as he watched Laurie wallow in misery, and he began to empathize with his sister-like friend. He knew Laurie well enough to realize that her heart was in the right place, and that that was not something worth scolding her about.

"Look, Laur. Y'didn't know. Simple'as tha'. Y'were doin' somethin' which y'thought was right. No shame in tha',"

"That's fine and great," she replied, "but if he gets himself killed because I was '_doing what I thought was right_,' then I don't think that was the very _'right'_ decision. I just thought that he'd be more likely to try and leave if he thought he was trapped here, that's why I told him the truth. That's why I told him that the school doesn't chase after people that leave. I thought the truth would make him realize that he's not being forced to stay here."

"Ah see wherr yer comin' from, Laur, but look at it this way'," Ben replied, his words of consolation running out of energy, as he made a last ditch attempt to chip away her self blame. "Y'don't know tha' he'd get killed in public. Maybe he'd survive just fine."

"Of course he _wouldn't_," she remarked. "Look at his skin. Any crazed anti-mutant – and there _are_ a lot of them – would have him cut down in seconds."

Ben came to a wall as he found himself beginning to acquiesce to her fears. Her heart was in the right place, afterall, but it was these kinds of actions on Laurie's behalf that made Ben fear for the worst; she worked through her heart, and this trait was often a curse more-so than it was a blessing.

"You gotta point there," he sighed, before tilting his head to look at her in the eyes. "Laur, listen t'me when I tell you tha' y'need to thaink befor'ya speak sometimes. What'cha did was like givin' a recoverin' drug addict th'number of the local dealer."

"I know it was stupid of me, okay? Do you need to rub it in? All I know is that _I need_ to make things right, Ben. I need to give him a reason to stay."

"Laur," Ben sighed. "Ah thaink it's too late nai. If he leaves, he leaves. There'isn't a whole lot y'can do 'bout it. He's a big boy, and can make'is own decisions."

Laurie stopped, and cleared her lungs before tilting her head towards the floor. She tried to reply; she tried with every effort in her body, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. The air in her throat couldn't articulate itself tight enough, to form a comprehensible sentence.

Her own words undulated in her head like a faint bleat echoing from the walls of a cave. She couldn't think of _why_ these words planted themselves in her mind so firmly, but their meaning was _so _clear to her:

_".. I need to make things right.."_

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Josh successfully managed to avoid all interactions with any mutants during his trek to the cafeteria. He made a detour to the courtyard, where he sat in front of the wrinkled oaktree that he discovered the day before. Jay was nowhere to be seen, but this was of no surprise to Josh. When Josh ambled around the school after lunch, he never spotted his roommate once, and the golden mutant figured that he was probably the quiet type - which was definitely a good thing.

He approached his bed and sat down, spanning his eyes over the room as if it was a detailed panorama. His clothes were still piled in heaps around the room, with the only exception being Jay's bed and a small place around the mutant's dwelling space which Laurie had cleared.

_I need to finish unpacking. _

During his wanderings of the campus, Josh reluctantly decided not to attempt an escape from the school, and therefore, needed to finish unpacking. Laurie's information regarding his ability to leave – although interesting - proved useless to him, and he still found himself fettered to the institution.

Despite his hatred of the academy, he came to realize that a simple escape attempt from the school would be an untactful and rash path to his death. Where would he sleep? How would he eat? How would he hide his obvious mutation?

Abdicating his role as student wouldn't be as easy as Laurie made it seem. He didn't have parents to run to, nor did he have an extended family.

He found himself feeling even more claustrophobic and trapped than he did before. The idea that he _could_ leave teased his sense and reason, which reinforced that his departure would also be his very demise.

He almost wished that Laurie had never told him of his freedom to leave. The concept tempted his aspiration, but his aspiration jeered his security.

Reminiscent of McCoy's arrival earlier, a knock was heard at the door, which ripped Josh from his thoughts. He hesitantly approached it and swung it open.

Laurie stood there, with her hair tied up in a ponytail, a change from her previous appearance. As she tossed her leg back and forward, his honey brown eyes were drawn to the mid-night blue of hers and he found himself staring at her trancedly.

"I'm here, as promised," she blurted, before checking her surroundings with precaution as she remembered she was in the boy's dorms.

_As promised? _

"You don't remember, do you?" Laurie giggle-whispered. "You asked me to come back tomorrow, and here I am."

The memories of his invitation came flooding back to him.

_Ah, that's right. I asked you to pack for me, to save me the bother. _

"I remember," he responded, shaking his head and breaking eye-contact, while hiding the taint of agitation and regret in his voice.

He _had_ hoped for another quiet night to himself.

"So, can I come in?" She asked, raising a brow and eyeing Josh curiously. "I don't want to get caught out here."

Josh was suddenly pricked by the fine point of social punctilio.

"Oh sure, come in," he said, trying hard to sound less melancholic, but also not wishing to discourage her from organizing his room. With a smile, Laurie stepped into his room and immediately honed in on a pile of jeans that had been tossed in front of the leg of his bed.

She quietly began folding the jeans and stacking them beside her. Josh continued to dishevel his shelves, by transporting objects from the lowers levels to the higher and vice versa.

"Classes start tomorrow," Laurie reminded, folding the leg of a pair of jeans. "Have you chosen all of your electives?"

"Yes," Josh said blankly, "the principal went through them with me when I arrived."

"What did you pick?"

_Hello small-talk. Haven't heard from you in a while._

"The same subjects I did at school back home."

"And what were they?" She asked with a half smile. "You really like these one line answers."

_You can state the obvious too. Congratulations. _

"Marine studies, advanced chemistry, macroeconomics and diving. Yes, I do."

Disregarding the last part of his sentence, Laurie saw an opening to initiate conversation which may have been of some interest to him.

"Marine Studies? Diving? They offer those here? We don't even have a swimming pool."

"I don't know the details, and I didn't ask. All I know is that she offered and I chose."

"So you like aquatic based subjects?" She asked, squeezing as much interest out of him as she could, to avoid a familiar awkward pause in the flow of their meak conversation.

"Yes, I do. Are you finished folding?" Josh asked, his patience rusting.

Laurie turned away and allowed the inevitable - yet delayed - silence to envelope them. Josh made no efforts to speak, and instead slouched his shoulders and pondered new ways of asking her to leave his dorm. Why was she so interested in him anyway?

"Where's the chemistry room?" Laurie asked arbitrarily, obliterating the silence that the golden mutant was just becoming comfortable with.

_I don't know, I've barely been here two days._

"No idea," he said neutrally, although curious to her irregular question.

"When Ben showed you around the school, he should have showed you the rooms where you have classes in. He didn't do that?"

"I.. I.." Josh stumbled over his words as he tried to recall his introduction to the school from Ben; he recalled being heavily lost in thought, but anything beyond that was clouded by the burdens he was – and _is_ – dealing with.

"I don't remember."

"How did you plan on getting to class tomorrow?" She asked succinctly.

"I don't know."

"Let me show you around," she offered, standing to her feet, before clasping her hands together behind her back. "I wont be all official and boring like Ben." Her pitch ascended with her joke, but Josh didn't smile, nor show any emotion towards the remark.

"What do you say?"

He _did_ contemplate a method of finding his classrooms without having to ask a mutant in the halls. Laurie's offer _did_ seem like the perfect solution; it was better that she showed him his classrooms, instead of some wonky eyed mutant that would give him the creeps. At least, Laurie _looked_ human.

"Okay. Whatever you want."

"Great!" She cheered. "It's 6pm, so most people will be in the common rooms or dorms, so don't worry about big crowds."

Josh nodded in the affirmative and slung a sweater over his shoulder. "When do we go?"

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"The school was founded by Charles Xavier. It expanded once – to Massachusetts, I think – but that's all gone now and it's located solely within Westchester County. The original building was built at the end of the 1700's, but obviously it's seen huge change since then," Laurie explained, leaning against a wall and peering down the halls.

Josh, who suppressed a yawn, nodded duly and purposely tuned out when she didn't address anything that benefitted him.

"It's been destroyed many times, too. So many people out there hate what the school represents and want to see it in ruins. Luckily, Emma envisioned the school being great again, and built it up with help from her friend Warren, who's a teacher here," she explained, taking a breath before continuing. "Every one of us is trained to hone our abilities and to become comfortable with them. The teachers are strict about only using offensive powers for two reasons: self-defense, or the defense of somebody else. If they catch you using your powers on someone unjustly, they'll send you into retraining."

"What's included in retraining?" Josh asked, her words stirring his interest.

"They just re-teach you what the school stands for, and when you should use your powers."

"So it's more like _re-brainwash_?" Josh asked, as the piece of him tied to Blair's teachings began to pulsate with vigor.

"I think of brainwash as a negative thing. Reinforcing the teaching of Charles Xavier isn't negative. He wished for mutants and humans to live together peacefully, and for mutants to use their powers for good, and not evil," Laurie responded, treading lightly with her choice of words. "That's not a negative thing."

"You think they should co-exist?"

"Of course! I'd like to think that someday my friends with physical mutations could live happily and safely in the real world."

"So if someone who can shoot fire from their eyes moves into the house next to you, you're supposed to be okay with that?"

Laurie considered his question and genuinely put thought into it. "Yes," she concluded. "For people to lose the stigma attached to mutants, they need to see that we're not bad. It's only a selective few that use their powers for evil. When the public opens their eyes to the teachings of Charles Xavier, they'll see that the guy who can shoot fire from his eyes, will never use his powers against them. Maybe someday, they'll just come to assume that he's harmless; same way you don't immediately assume your neighbor is a murderer."

"Even _if_ I agreed with you," Josh replied. "I don't think society will ever come to a point where they'd _assume_ a mutant is kind hearted and has good intentions."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Don't be. I am this way because I was lucky enough to be enlightened to the dangers of mutants."

A dusky heat descended in Laurie's diaphragm as she received a sudden insight into Josh – something she hadn't hoped to receive.

"Who _enlightened_ you?" She asked.

"Blair, of course." Josh blurted, before realizing that he had given too much of himself to the blonde. "I mean, a friend. A wise friend."

Josh's attempt to save-face told Laurie that he now had his wits about him, and that her opportunity to get to know him had finally passed by.

"This is the chemistry room," she said uneasily, stepping away from the golden mutant and positioning herself in front of the door. "This is where you'll be going tomorrow."

Josh nodded curtly, before fading back behind his thoughts, and inclining his head towards the dark oaky floor.

A question loomed over them and the anticipation of it being asked intensified like a jack-in-the-box nearing it's moment to suddenly rise.

Laurie didn't dare ask it, but she certainly thought about it. She could tell that Josh was scorning himself for revealing too much, and so she tried to make it unapparent that she was thinking about the question which he _knew_ she was _bound_ to be thinking about.

The question was simple, but was almost an answer within itself: _Who was Blair?_

Laurie hadn't expected such an obvious chink to appear in Josh's barriers, and a part of her pondered the unknown connection between this _Blair_, and Josh.

But with hopes of slicing through the silence, Laurie decided to speak and her voice pierced through the empty halls and dragged Josh from his repose.

"There's about fifteen teachers here," she said, as Josh jerked his head and attempted to listen, "You've met … how many now?"

"Two."

"Oh?" She gasped lightly, her mouth forming a perfect 'o.' "You've meet a teacher other than Emma Frost?"

Josh shuddered as the image of Dr Hank McCoy's nails swiped at his mind.

"Beast. He knocked on my door earlier today."

"Let me guess, medical evaluation?"

Josh nodded.

"So did you learn anything new from it? I remember mine like it was yesterd-"

"No. I refused to go," Josh interrupted, turning his face from the blonde. "Does he think I'm stupid? As if I'd go anywhere with him."

"Why wouldn't you..? Oh _wait_, the whole canine thing freaked you out, didn't it?" Laurie questioned amusingly. "Did his big nails and blue fur give you the shivers? Did you fear that he'd rip out his teeth attack you in the middle of the hallway? Were you scared that he'd drag you into his clinic and you'd never be seen again?" She burst out laughing and threw a hand over her mouth.

"Josh, that's not very alpha-male of you."

"Hey!" He snapped. "I wasn't _scared_, I just didn't want to go with him, that's all!"

"_Just didn't want to go with him_," Laurie quoted with a wink and a wry smile. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Secre-? What're you talking about?"

The blonde girl tapped her nose and winked again before continuing down the hall with a snort. Josh huffed and reluctantly followed her.

As they advanced through the hallways, they visited every classroom which hosted Joshua's classes, and Laurie addressed more, and more questions that Josh might have about the school.

The golden mutant's attention was ephemeral and he retained barely a snippet of her stories. She continued to babble on, and defied her earlier promise not to become 'official and boring, like Ben.'

Josh stared at her blankly as she proudly spewed meaningless trivia at him.

".. The Danger Room creates artificial environments and enemies - that's where we do the majority of our training. Some students hate it because it seems so real, but I find it kind of exciting.."

_Fucks given: -100. _

"Dr_._McCoy – or should I say, your biggest fear - usually operates the Danger room. He uses it to assess a mutant's powers and abilities. It's incredible, actually, and I still can't really get my head around the mechanics of it."

Josh grunted and rolled his eyes. "I'm _not_ scared of him!"

"Oh sure," she drawled, before taking a breath to continue. "The teachers live here too. Xaviers is more than just a school. It's a safe haven for mutants. It's a place where mutants from all over the world can call home, if they choose to." The blonde shrugged her shoulders to reiterate her point, and then flicked a gold lock that had fallen and dangled from her hair-band.

"There are people from all across the globe here. Just from the top of my head, I can name students from Japan, China, India, Scotland, Holland, Russia.. the list goes on.."

_No need to let it go on any further. _

"Every one of them went through an evaluation with Beast, or excuse me, the _grim reaper_. Aside from you and your girly chicken-ness, every student agrees that Beast is the nicest and most gentle person they've ever met."

And as Laurie finished her sentence, her words cracked the last supporting fragments of Josh's decorum. Her comments had not been funny to him, and the jokes she made had become pathetic excuses to get to know him. The golden student clenched his fist and defied his rule to stop stepping on peoples' toes.

"Let's make this clear, Lauren," Josh interrupted.

"Laurie."

"_Whatever_,"

He swiped his fringe away and revealed his eyes, which seemed blistered with agitation, while emitting molecules of nascent fury.

"I'm _not_ scared of that Beast, I'm just not in the mood to be poked and prodded at by some doctor – and a mutant doctor, at that. I know that's difficult for you to understand because you seem to enjoy _poking and prodding_ into my life, but do yourself a favor and give it up. You don't know me, so stop pretending that you do, okay?" He inflated himself with the frustration that he had been eschewing since they departed for the tour.

"I don't even want to be on this _tour_ of yours. The more I'm introduced to this place, the more I hate it and want to leave. I'm trying to pretend that this isn't real, but the more real you make it, the harder it is to pretend." Josh found himself, again, revealing too much of his psyche and he cursed the irrevocability of his words.

Laurie was nonplussed by his reaction and couldn't help but take a verbal hit to the stomach. Fear briefly crystallized inside of her when she heard him say '_want to leave_,' and her anxiety from her conversation with Ben, drained the blood from her face. She couldn't let Josh – and in some ways, herself – know that the reasons behind her attempted investment of time with him lay solely with guilt, and of course, the fear of a possibility.

Was he planning on leaving?

Laurie couldn't admit that her efforts to make Joshua stay were stemming from her own selfishness. Was she getting him to stay for _his_ sake, or _hers_? Was she actually worried about _his_ wellbeing, or only the fact _she'd_ had to bear the guilt if harm came his way? If the conversation last night had not occurred, and Josh left anyway, then would she still feel responsible if harm had come his way? That wouldn't be on her, after-all, and she'd be just another student hearing 'the bad news:' that a pupil escaped and got himself killed in the real world. Thewhole thing could be one giant way of protecting herself from burden and regret.

..And was it?

Aside from the questions, one thing was for certain: She needed to think before she spoke.

Reasons aside, Laurie couldn't let someone walk to his death. The fact he was even considering, or thinking about, or _even_ using the world '_leave,_' worried her, and made her feel even more strongly about giving him a cause to stay.

If saving his life meant making him stay, and making him stay entailed having a cause, then she would _be_ that cause. She couldn't live with the guilt if he – or anyone- were to leave based on the information she blurted out so liberally the night before. And suddenly, the feeling of guilt and the recognition of her selfishness came flooding back to her.

"Sorry," she said, her face mirroring the traffic of thoughts in her head. "I was just trying to be funny."

"_Quit_ trying," he snapped back.

Laurie sighed and tilted her head towards the floor, as her fears fueled the pit in her stomach.

"You're right. I shouldn't have pushed it. I'm sorry again. I'm just conscious that you need a friend. It's so much easier when you have someone to talk to. I promise, I kno-"

"I don't _need_ a friend!" Josh interrupted, flicking his hand from his face and exposing his eyes, which were now radiating and over-pouring with fury.

"I _had_ a friend, and he's gone too, along with everyone else. Don't tell me you know what it's like to need someone, because you've never needed anything in your life! You have everyone you care about around you, and I have no-one."

Josh trembled, and a foggy silence fell upon them like an untimely frost.

"You're wrong there," she commented, a grief-stricken expression befalling her. She took a step back and exposed her face to the gritted air around them.

"My father died in the gulf war."

.. Before he could even react, a little piece of the golden mutant floated to the graveyard and joined the part of him that Dalores had once filled. He spilled his posture and his head dropped.

"I'm.. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," she said firmly, before faintly laughing through the nets of angered sarcasm. "It's funny Josh, a friend once told me that I needed to think before I spoke."

She stopped and took a shaky breath before piercing the golden mutant with her blue eyes. "The irony is that, I think _you_ do too."

With that, she turned and strolled away, disappearing into the now-dusky outdoors from behind the glass egress.

Josh remained there, as images of _his _father twirled in his mind.

…He was alive, and yet wanted nothing to do with Josh..

And the contrast of those words, but between himself and Laurie, punched him in the stomach. _She lost_ someone who loved her, and _he was lost_ from someone who never _really_ loved him.

The difference overwhelmed him and shook him, and he felt a pane of guilt crawl into his gut. Her anguished eyes and sorrowful face imprinted themselves in his mind, and his stomach churned as he realized that he caused her to feel that way.

But Laurie's face began to distort and fade, and slowly but surely, she was soon replaced by the face of Blair. Suddenly, his regret and guilt softly eroded, and he found himself suspended in a state of numb indifference. The side of him fettered to Blair slithered into his thoughts and his ability to _regret_ and _sympathize_ started to gently ebb away. Every _word_, every _teaching_, that had been ingrained into Josh, had become one with his mentality, and he began to spit at the original sorrow he felt for misjudging Laurie. He could no longer feel for her, and his sympathies brusquely brushed themselves away.

… She was _still_ a mutant after-all..

.. and nothing was going to change that.


	4. A Song of Realization

So the next two chapters were once, one long beast of a chapter. So to save your eyes from bleeding (see Chapter 2,) I broke Chapter 4 into two chapters and thus, Chapter 5 was born too. So think of this chapter, and the next, as "Chapters 4.1 and 4.2." Ugh, I just used decimals.

Also, I'm having trouble finding a Beta-Reader :'( If anyone's interested, I'd love to hear from you, so pop a message my way! All are weeeelcome. *Waving arm motion*

Chapter 5 (4.2, lol sorry,) will be up in a bit! Thank you all again!

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"It seems we're in the same class," Jay replied, as Josh scanned over his class-list which had recently been delivered to the door.

"Mr. Worthington is the best English teacher in the school. He's a pragmatist, and usually gets you the grade you want," explained the auburn haired student, as Josh's eyes continued to scan over the list.

"Who's Ms. Aquilla?" Josh asked, his eyes flicking up to make sure that Jay was at a distance.

"She's one of the science teachers, although I'm not certain which science specifically."

The golden mutant hummed and brought his attention back to the list.

"And Mrs. Munroe?"

"_Technically_, it's Mrs. Munroe," Jay stated, "but everybody calls her Ororo or Storm."

"Storm?"

"It's just a nickname, similar to Beast, as it refers to her powers. Think of it as a definition, if you wish."

Josh scratched his head and looked towards his roommate, who had not moved from his cross-legged position on his bed.

"What can she do? It doesn't sound safe to me," Josh remarked, throwing his hand up in the air before settling it down. "Does this school have _any_ normal people?"

"You can find anything if you look hard enough for it," Jay replied calmly, shifting his weight on the bed. "I wouldn't repudiate the idea that life here is more mundane than you'd believe."

The mellifluous tone to Jay's voice, along with the flowing certainty in his words, soothed a subconscious knot in Josh's stomach.

"So what exactly can this _Ororo_ do?"

"Edit the weather as she pleases."

Josh's eyes popped out a little, and the teenager's pupils drew over his roommate's mouth, as if he could see the words form themselves on his lips.

"How could life here be _mundane_, when there are people that can change the weather at will? None of that is normal." He slapped a hand to his forehead and took a deep breath and sighed away his frustration. But he then remembered that he had to _live_ with Jay, and so getting on his bad side was probably not a good idea. The golden mutant quickly thought of a method to meliorate his last comment by adding a light hearted one to impersonalize it. "If someone told me I was living in a comic book, I'd probably believe them."

"As would I," Jay remarked, the corners of his mouth rising, showing no awareness of Josh's speedy amelioration. "At least you have survived your first two days sans being ignited into flames or dropped from the sky."

Despite the element of truth to his words, Josh shrugged it off and turned his eyes back to the list before speaking. "Well it's only the beginning of day three. I'm not going to hold my breath."

Jay hummed with a closed mouth before Josh continued, his eyes flicking through the names on the list. "And who's Mr. Summers?"

Jay seemed a little over-whelmed by the question, and sighed before leaning back into the wall that his bed was pushed against.

"Mr. Summers is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most _officious_ figure of authority in the school,"

"Offici- what?"

"My apologies. He is the one teacher who exerts his authority the most intensively," Jay answered, with a slight rise in his glance. "It is popular belief that Mr. Summers has always eyed Mrs. Frost's position."

"You mean he wants to be principal?"

"In popular belief, yes."

"Who would possibly want to run this place? It's hell enough just staying here for a year, never mind living and working in it," Josh huffed. "But besides, what does Mr. Summer's power trip have to do with eyeing the spot as principal?"

"Many students feel that the reason he acts in such a bitter manner, is because he is indignant that he is not the leader of the institution. I've heard that some seniors have asked Mrs. Frost of her opinion of him," Jay explained, "of course, she will not comment, but the expression upon her countenance alone, is an insight into her fondness – or _lack of_."

"Lack of, definitely," Josh interjected.

Jay sighed and slightly slouched his shoulders. "But it's wrong of me to influence your opinion before you've met him. Perhaps you will enjoy him as a teacher."

"_Enjoy_ is a bit far." Josh ruffled his hair and glanced at the list again before allowing his gaze to wander off. "I don't enjoy anything here," he stopped again, and fell to the urge that prodded him to say what he thought. "Everyone outside this room is a terrorist to me. It's like everybody is a time-bomb, or something, and that this whole fake world that this school has made, is bound to fall at some stage."

The auburn haired student, wisps of surprise swirling in his stomach, pondered Josh's words before lifting a brow, of which made Josh hesitate.

"You said, _everybody outside this room_," Jay quoted, his eyes gently placing themselves upon the awkward Josh. He stood to his feet and picked up his bag from the floor below him, and headed towards the door before opening it. As Josh's face sketched a puzzled expression, the auburn headed student turned around and faced his roommate.

"But I remind you, Josh, that _I_ am in this room." Jay smiled and turned for the hallway and departed his dorm, leaving Josh to the confines of his thoughts.

The golden mutant sighed and grunted, before his consciousness quelled the embers of Blair's warnings in his diaphragm. Jay's words encircled him and wrapped around his body like a lasso.

For some reason, Jay didn't _feel_ like a mutant to Josh. Perhaps it was because he was the first person who didn't pry into Josh's life, or try to relate to him through the usage of a brittle cliché or a vacuous proverb. But it helped that Jay showed no physical signs of a mutation too, and Josh could almost let himself forget that Jay was a mutant entirely. Unlike Ben and Laurie, his roommate didn't seem to define himself by his powers, and this was an art of which Josh hoped to master some day.

But, like every other student, he was still a mutant. He wouldn't be at the school if he wasn't. And similarly to his experience the night before, his ease shattered and Blair's teachings came bleeding into his thoughts.

_Never trust a mutant._

_A guilty mutant will never look at you in the eye. _

_Mutants are the greatest threat to humanity as we know it. _

_Mutants must be isolated from society. _

_.. Mutants are evil. _

Surprisingly, Josh found himself associating Blair with a hint of normality. Because Blair gave him foundations, and meaning, Josh thought of him as an establisher of order. His teachings, in an obscure way, actually comforted Josh and told him that everything would be okay, that Blair would fix it all soon. It was for this reason that Josh felt obliged to live by the man's words. Blair had given him a mantra of security and reason, and gifted him the ability to work towards something and ultimately towards a sensation of satisfaction.

Blair had succeeded where Laurie had failed: he gave Josh a reason - _a reason_ to wake up every morning.

Money and politics had sapped every fiber of meaning from Josh's life; what was the point of working, when you have everything you'd ever want within arms reach? Josh felt void of purpose and longed to achieve something that wasn't served to him on a silver platter.

But now, Josh felt deprived of meaning and purpose again. Since his powers manifested, life was bleak to him and any hopes or dreams, which he once retained, were enshrouded in a mist of darkness and depression. The sad truth that his life had changed forever, knocked on the back of his head and delivered a package of grief to his gut.

The alarm chirped, and Josh realized that he was running late for English class. He ripped himself from his thoughts and slung his bag over his left shoulder, before he scurried out of the room, in the same direction Jay had headed for moments before him.

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"Welcome back to the start of a new school year," said Mr. Worthington, with excess avidity. "I hope all of you had a relaxing summer. God knows we needed it!" He chuckled to himself before alleviating his enthusiasm at the sight of the depleted expressions of the students before him.

"Looks like you guys aren't too pumped about starting a new school year! But if you just keep your heads down, it'll fly by, I promise!" He declared with alacrity, clapping his hands together to jolt the zombiesque students.

A drained moan followed his words of pep and the gurgling sound of the war between the floor and the chairs imbued the silence in the classroom.

"So first thing's first! I've made up a new seating arrangement for this year. If you could all stand up and –"

"Ughhh," groaned the crowd of summer-infected student, sapping the words away from Warren's lips.

"As I was _saying_.. If you could all stand up and move to the left of the room, I'll direct you all to your new seats one-by-one. How does that sound?" He waved around a piece of paper with a sketched seating plan, but again, his drive was not met by the students, who glared at him with exhausted discontent.

"Okaay," he drawled. "Brian Cruz, you along with Hope Abbott will be sitting over there, by the window." He pointed to the main fenêtre in the room and the two approached it and sat themselves down.

"Jessica Vale, you're with Callie Betto, at the back table." The girls smiled and acted accordingly. "Who's next?" He murmured to himself, looking at the crowd in front of him, before cross-referencing to his sketch. "Ah, Jay Guthrie?"

Jay stepped forward with a nod.

"You'll be sitting beside Paras Gavaskar."

The students behind Josh divided, and a lithe, slender teenager stepped forward. As Josh turned to glance at him, he was met with an exotic glow of rich violet. The teenager's skin was painted with a crispy purple tint, while parts of his face and arms were scarred with thick, long and angular sticks of pink filigree. The brighter slicks of pink whipped up each cheek in a parallel fashion and died at the hairline around his temples. Two other lines of pink dashed over his purple skin, in the shape of lightning bolts, originating from his scalp and ending at his eyebrows. Finally, in the center of his forehead, was a diamond shaped growth that pressed out from the violet ocean around it.

Josh felt as if he was looking at the purple version of himself.

Save the pink whips on Paras's body, and the hard exterior of Josh's skin, the golden mutant saw a resemblance in their conditions. Both of them were unnaturally colored and contained one color tainted upon the other. Josh's skin was gold but he retained gentle reflective wisps of white that shone depending on the angle of the light. The golden teenager concluded that if this _Paras_ had been a lighter color, his skin might have had a similar quality as well.

Warren informed them of their seats, and both boys seated themselves.

"Mark Sheppard and Dallas Gibson, you guys are in the table in front of me. After last year, I can't risk you two sniggering at the back for hours upon end," Warren chided with a frown.

As each student around him was slowly assigned a place to sit, soon enough, Josh was left alone, against the wall where the crowd had once existed.

"New kid is the last one!" Laughed Mark Sheppard, the student Josh remembered snapping at in the cafeteria.

"Shut your trap you filthy mutant or I'll make your life hell!" Josh hissed back, with a boorish spit in his voice.

"I'm the filthy mutant? Last time I looked, your skin was gold. What color is mine again? Oh yes, normal! Oh, and look, it's untainted too!"

Josh lunged from his side of the class, with his arms throwing themselves in front of him. With gritted teeth and jagged fingers, Josh resembled a tiger pouncing upon its prey, and his body ripped past the tables and chairs, as he honed in on his target.

But when an arm sprayed itself in front of Josh, his efforts were thwarted and he was pushed back. "Get a hold of yourself!" Yelled the teacher, clutching Josh with one arm, expelling the clouds of anger in his mind. The golden teen jerked and allowed his arms to swipe towards Mark before the haze of rage in his mind dissipated to a point of minor clarity.

"Mark, out _now_! Go to the receptionist's office!" The teacher growled, signaling towards the door with his free arm.

When he realized that he was being held by a mutant, Josh aggressively squirmed out from his teacher's grasp and rested his hands on his knee-caps as he panted the remnants of his fury away.

"Josh, I want you to go outside, take a walk, and then come back in here when you're ready, okay?" With his thoughts beyond him, the student latched to Warren's advice and scurried out the door with a pant.

"You were all new once," Warren sighed to the class. "So you should understand that coming here isn't easy. The last thing he needs is to be provoked." Warren's gaze dropped to Mark's now-empty chair, before he looked towards a white-faced student adjacent to him.

"Sarah, would you escort Mark to Mrs. Frost's office? He should be with the receptionist. Allow him to explain to Emma what he did."

With a nod, the girl stood up and left the classroom.

"Now that I've lost three students in the time it took me to read out a seating plan, I'm getting a really optimistic feeling about this year," the teacher whispered, partially to himself and partially to the class.

As thirty minutes rolled by, Josh returned – with a tail between his legs - and Warren sewed a smile to his face and cushioned his earlier exasperation, before signaling to an empty chair beside him. "Josh, this is your seat. You'll be sitting next to Jubilation Lee."

As Josh walked up to his seat, the recognitive part of his brain began to tingle as he scanned the person in the seat beside his own.

It was, if his memory served correctly, the girl with the strange eyes in the cafeteria with Ben, Mark and Megan, two days ago.

She looked up and her clouded eyes danced around his figure, but again, missed the golden teen by a subtle – yet recognizable- margin. A frisson trickled up Josh's spine, as her scrutiny evoked a goosebump-like sensation on his hardened skin.

_A guilty mutant will never look at you in the eye.._

Josh sat at the edge of his seat and brought his arm to lean across his head and block the girl from his sight.

_Why is she staring? Does she know how obvious this is?_

"Over summer, I asked you all to go over your notes on debating," Mr. Worthington reminded, sitting on the corner of his desk. "I want to see who did their work, so I've come up with some arguments and I'll randomly select some of you to debate them. You guys with me?"

An unenergetic moan from the students caused Warren to roll his eyes before glancing down at some notes scribbled on the back of his hand.

"The usage of codenames within the mutant community – who's for it, and who's against it?" He craned his neck to view the students who voted in favor of the statement, and again at those who voted against.

Josh and 'Jubilation' had abstained – a luxury they both granted to themselves.

"Okay, one from each side. Paras, you voted against, and Brian, you voted for. I want a clean debate. No jabs, and no statements without examples and backup. Go!"

"The reason I'm against codenames within mutant society," declared Paras, his accent retaining qualities that mocked Josh's attempt to geographically locate the origins of the boy, "is because I feel it distances us further from what is viewed as normal. If we wish to co-exist with humans, then how can we expect to be called 'Batman,' or 'Joker,' and be taken seriously? If we want to be treated as equals to humans, then we shouldn't alienate ourselves further from what is the norm in their society. In my belief, God allows us to choose our parents. I chose mine, and they named me Paras. I do not see it necessary to go back on my parents wishes, or God's wishes, and boost myself above them both with some ridiculous codename."

"Interesting stance," Warren commended, clasping his hands together. "Someone's been doing his homework! Nice way of mixing your opinion with experience and religion. Good job." With a shy smile, Paras sat down and Brian Cruz took his place in front of the class. The student cleared his throat and wiped his palms on his pants.

"The, ugh, reason, I – ugh," he cleared his throat again and wiped a beat of sweat forming on his forehead. "I think, ugh, codenames are cool. Erm, I mean, ugh, who doesn't want a cool name like Batman?" Blank faces met his brief inflection of enthusiasm and he sunk back into his nerves.

"I think they're cool for, you know, having. You know, because they're, erm, cool."

With a snort - that Warren forced into a sigh - the teacher interrupted and spared the student from further embarrassment. "And what do we learn from this, everyone? When Mr. Worthington says do your homework, it's a good idea to _actually_ do it." Brian cringed and sat in his seat, sighing with relief as he did so.

"I think a more valid argument would be that codenames protect your true identity and that due to the fact that we live in a hierarchal society, it's a good idea to keep codenames to prevent extreme members of society from finding our families, friends or whereabouts."

Brian shrugged. "That's what I was going to say."

Warren smiled and threw a crumbled piece of paper at the teenager. "I'm sure Mr. Cruz, I'm sure."

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Josh's boredom was banished upon the ring of the bell, and the students began flooding out of the classroom. As he stood up to leave, Warren stepped in front of him and asked him to stay behind until the room had emptied.

With a shut of the door, Mr. Worthington beckoned Josh to his desk and allowed him to sit on the corner of it. Josh was uncomfortable with the informalities that Warren practised so comfortably, and the fact the teacher was a mutant didn't help either.

"Josh, I'd like to apologize on Mark's behalf for his provoking attitude. He's been known for making smart remarks – some funny, some _not so much_," said Warren, who seemed to reminisce over the 'funny,' things Mark had said in the past.

With an unexpected sigh, and a dip in his smile, the teacher's complexion became a little less perky.

"But that doesn't excuse your reaction, either. You're eighteen.."

"Seventeen," Josh interjected with a tone of disapproval.

".. seventeen, and you're old enough to handle yourself better than that. I'll be succinct with you, Josh. If you're going to react like that every-time someone throws a comment your way, then I don't think you'll settle well into this school. It _is_ a school after all, so it's understandably impossible for everyone to get on at all times."

Josh was momentarily surprised. It was the first time anyone had told him that Xaviers was, _perhaps_, not the place for him. And ironically, it had come from a _founding_ member of the staff

"He started it," Josh defended, clenching his fists. "This is the second time that _bast- _erm, _guy_ has said something offensive to me. He just enjoys getting under my skin."

"Or maybe you enjoy having someone to lash out at."

"Yeah, so? I'm entitled to that if I want!" Josh remarked, his voice rising. Warren remained undeterred and leaned back further into his armchair.

"And why do you feel you are entitled to such a privilege? When I'm angry and annoyed – which I am, many times a day – I don't have the luxury of a living punching bag."

"I never said I had a living punching bag!" Josh defended, agitation creeping further into the trenches of his tone.

"Well judging by how you lunged at Mark, it seems you appointed yourself one in that moment. Why do you feel the need to inflict pain on people who cross you?" Warren asked, as he analyzed the depth of Josh's anger. "Did someone inflict pain on you before? Is _that _why you have this impulse to do it to others?"

"What? No!" He yelled, clenching his fists together and allowing a bitter shiver to crawl through his tensed shoulders. "He brought it on himself! He deserved to get a punch for humiliating me in front of the class!"

"He deserved it? Is that how you roll? You decide who deserves something? They don't get a say in it?"

"That's not what I meant!" Josh growled, his brow whipping lower towards his eyes.

"Is this to do with your _parents_? I know how they passed over guardianship to Emma, and I know that that must have a scarring effect on you," Warren said calmly, without even a blink.

The blood in Josh's face curdled and his nails began to crack upon the surface of his palms.

"Who the _hell_ do you think you are? How would you know any of that?" He roared, slamming both hands on the teacher's desk. "What kind of fucking school is this?"

"I know because I'm also in-charge of admissions," said Warren matter-of-factly, "I'm the one who received a call from your mother the morning of August 28th. She said she had a mutant she needed to be rid of… or did she say _disposed_ of? I'm afraid my memory is cloudy. But It's clear to me that they dumped you. It doesn't take a genius to see that." He took a deep breath and maintained a neutral expression, contrary to Josh, who was bubbling over with fury and anguish.

"So I'll repeat what I said: the whole experience must have had a scaring effect on you. Is it because of how they treated you that you're angry at the world? Is this why you felt the need to hit someone who passed a silly remark at you? Is this why, Joshua?"

"This is _bullshit_!" Josh yelled, slamming a fist into the table, before stomping towards the exit. And after a slam of the door, Warren was left on his own. With a pensive expression, he brought his hand to caress his jaw-line, as he deliberated over the imbroglio before him. The slam of the door still rang in his ear, and the slight dent in his desk became the focus of his eyes, as his mind briefly left the physical dimension and he examined the reaction he had evoked from Josh.

"Just as I thought," he muttered to himself.

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"I hate this school!" Josh bellowed, as he slammed the door of his dorm. A rattle echoed down the halls and a group of students who had gathered by the stairwell, directed their gazes towards the source of the vibration.

"This place is a fucking joke! Who the hell does he think he is?" Josh yammered to nobody in particular. "If this was anywhere else, I'd sue his ass for everything he owns!"

As the snapped fuse of anger exploded inside of him, Josh's fist met the wall with a hollow wallop and his knuckle cracked the flecked wallpaper.

With a gritty gasp, Josh leaned his head against the wall and exhaled all his emotions at once. Fury, confusion, pain, sadness .. they all emitted from his body with one breath, and almost simultaneous to a trickle of blood that beaded from his knuckle, did a tear stumble from a warm honey eye, and down a reflective golden cheek.

The image of his mother's blue eyes, and the sound of his father's gurgling sobs formed in his mind, and Josh found himself banging his head against the wall with hopes of omitting them from his heed.

Mr. Worthington's words etched into his mind, and Josh suddenly found himself coming to face a harsh reality: his parents never really loved him.

His legs buckled underneath, and Josh fell to the floor with an exasperated gasp, resigning himself to the axioms of his realizations. More tears had found the confidence to follow their predecessor and before Josh knew it, he was sobbing similarly to the morning he woke up with golden skin.

His stomach tensed and his head inclined and Josh's eyes gently spilled their contents onto the floor, as he panted through conniption and affliction.

"They never loved me," he cried, as the globes of tears threatened to throw themselves from the corners of his eyes.

"They never really loved me."

He brought his hands to his eyes and drew his legs to his chest, as his body trembled with icy reality.

It was in this moment, did Josh feel as Emma Frost predicted he would: as if he was subject to an expiration date. The teenager bawled with faint moans and his burning eyes continued to radiate salty droplets which shined his skin and intensified the whitened reflective wisps upon the golden hue.

Even Blair failed to besiege his thoughts and the loneliness that enveloped him, zapped the air from his lungs as the teenager began to hyperventilate. With every breath he took, his body began to go numb and the skin on his neck reverted to a familiar tingle.

And suddenly, he felt a cold syrupy blob drip from his scalp and onto the hairs of his eyelash. He hadn't noticed a fresh wound, bashed open by his head's introduction to the wall. Feeling delirious, he wiped it away and attempted to stand to his feet, before his eyes suddenly became level with the floor, and he hit the ground with a crash.

The lights dimmed; his thoughts bled, and soon enough Josh fell unconscious, as his awareness of his surroundings was drained of its life.


	5. My Body Is A Cage

Chapter 5! (4.2, LOL, sorry, there I go again with decimals.) See Chapter 4 for details on what I'm talking about.

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"I knew I'd be hearing from him sooner than later!" Emma commented. "I was _just_ planning on going to my room to put a face mask on, when Sarah Vale knocked on my door and escorted Mark Sheppard in."

Warren crossed his legs as he examined Emma, who was slung over her armchair. "There's been talk around the school of Mr. Foley having sporadic outbursts. I've noticed, you know. Walking past groups of students is surprisingly revealing," Emma added, with a brief sly smile, before it became serious once again. "He's the most difficult student I've ever seen since .. since, _you know_. Maybe this isn't the place for him. Maybe I should call his parents and ask them to take him off our hands."

Warren sighed and nodded in disagreement.

"That's not what the school stands for," Worthington gently reminded, with a softening smile. "We can't turn our backs on him because he's difficult. His circumstances _are_ pretty unfortunate."

"Unfortunate but common," Emma reminded, tapping her nails on the desk. "I could count dozens of students whose parents gave them up, and they're doing just fine."

"Are they? Let's see: Eddie Tancredi? His parents quite willingly handed him over, and if you recall, the poor kid is dead now."

"That was an accident, Warren, he _fell_ off that cliff."

"Then what about Quentin Quire?" Warren asked, "He went insane after he came here and wrecked havoc in the school."

"He was a special case!"

"And Talia Wagner? After her parents left her here, she lasted a week before she disappeared and we never saw her again."

"She could teleport! There's no knowing where she poofed away to. Besides, it's no secret that I don't go running around after escapees. If they leave, that's on them." She swiftly flicked her fringe from her face. "For the years we've been friends Warren, I can never call what point you're making until you come out and actually make it. What're you getting at?"

Warren smiled, and sat himself on the arm of Emma's chair before wrapping an arm around her. "All I'm saying Emm, is that the students that are abandoned by their parents, seem to struggle the most. The student's whose parents have passed away, at least have closure. The ones that don't fall into either of those categories still maintain some form of contact with their parents."

"That's not true. There are plenty of students here that don't communicate with their parents," Emma said with contradiction to Warren.

"Maybe, but they're the students who chose not to speak with their parents because they're angry at them for sending them here. There's a big difference between _choosing_ to ignore and _being_ ignored, especially when parents are _doing_ the ignoring, which is the case for Josh."

"So what should we do about him?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mark was adamant that Josh dislikes mutants and that his comments were a reaction to Josh's attitude."

"Of _course_ he'd say that," Warren drawled with a chuckle. "It's _Mark_. He'd say anything to get himself off the hook. He's the class clown."

Emma smiled faintly to herself, before sighing and sinking further into her chair.

"I'm not saying Josh is in the right, I'm not saying that at all. All I'm saying is that I think he's got a lot of anger in him over what's happened. I think I can help him. I'd like you to appoint me as his counselor," Warren said astutely, as he looked at his friend in the eye with hope.

"That's not how we do it here, War, and you know that," she reprimanded, sliding out from under his arm. "Your little act won't fool me. Each student chooses which member of staff will be his or her counselor, if they need one. And if I remember correctly, _you_ made that a rule of the school."

"I know, I know!" Warren admitted justly, waving his hands in front of his face. "But I think Josh is a special case. I really think I can help him, but right now, I'm the last person he'll ever pick, even if he picks anyone. I just want you to go over the rule's head and appoint me."

"And why should I?" Emma asked with an askew brow.

"Because you love me."

"I'm serious, Warren, don't push me."

"Fine," he conceded, angling his head so that his expression would be clear. "I can relate to him. I know what it's like to have rich parents..

..I had them too."

His expression dropped, and the flicker in his eye gently attenuated, before he cleared his throat abruptly and added more to his words. "I know exactly what he's going through because…

.. I was the same."

Emma was taken back by her friend's lack of levity, and his genuine concern undid her impartial mask of authority.

"Two weeks, Warren," she sighed, with conceded posture. "You have two weeks as his counselor. If he decides that he wants you after that time, then call it permanent. But if he doesn't, it's over. Immediately. You got me?"

Warren leapt to his feet, and his usual self came hopping back into him. "You know I love you, right?"

"I said _don't_ push it. Now if you don't mind, I was _just_ about to put on a facial mask."

"My apologies, your highness. I'll leave you to satisfy your needs."

"You're about as mature as Mark Sheppard, you realize that, right?" Emma bit, feigning more irritation than she actually felt.

Warren clicked his tongue against his front teeth and made a mock tutting sound. "You shouldn't compare staff to students, Emma. That's not very principalish of you," he chirped, with a wink.

Emma rolled her eyes and held back a smile. "If you let it slide, I'll _'make'_ myself forget that an English teacher just used the word _principalish_."

"Touché," he chuckled back, before smiling and heading for the door.

But as he approached the egress, Warren was suddenly stopped by a deeper and firmer tone by Ms. Frost.

"Oh, and Warren," she called, stoniness heckling the previously mirthful sound in her voice.

"Scott Summers _will_ not know of this."

Sensing a nonexistent slot for a joke, Warren nodded earnestly before closing the door behind him.

The teacher paced further down the hall, and when he was a safe distance from the oaky entrance to Emma's office, he grinned to himself.

"_Success."_

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By the time the school day had ended, Jay had decided to run some errands around the school. He helped the gardener water some of the plants, before he sat below a tree and read over his debate notes. The wind warmly glided past his face and Jay melted a little bit into the trunk. He enjoyed resting behind the school, rather than at the busy courtyard at the front. Behind the institution, was a lone field, which hosted one, wide – yet crumbly- oak-tree. It was the mother of them all on campus, but ironically, saw the least amount of attention. Jay was the only one there.

The wind gently swayed the phthalo colored leaves above him, and the sweet smell of late summer fuchsia enriched the air around him.

As he closed his eyes, and absorbed the tranquil environment, a rustle was heard from above.

"Who's there?" Jay asked with slight apathy, too relaxed to worry about insignificant noises around him.

"_Sun," _croaked a voice from above.

Jay stood to his feet, his disinterest suddenly replaced with concern.

"Who?"

"_Sun._ Callie Betto."

"Oh," Jay said with surprise, before knitting a warm smile, "you're in my English class, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right. _Sun_."

Jay raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think I've actually made your acquaintance, Ms. Betto," said Jay again, this time fervently smiling with a row of teeth.

"And I've never met you either. It's nice to meet you, Jay. And no need to be – _sun_ – so formal. Callie will do fine."

"Thank you Callie. Excuse me for being rude, but may I ask what you're doing in the tree?"

"May I ask what you're doing on the ground?" The girl retorted, her voice proving slightly nasally and trilled.

"I was sitting down."

"And so was I."

Jay chuckled and slapped a hand on his leg. "Pardon me, I wasn't trying to be rude."

"I know. _Sun_."

A little confused to the girl's odd social behavior, Jay decided to regroup and approach his question differently.

"What are you doing here alone, Callie?" He smiled again, and placed a hand in his pocket.

"_Sun._ I wasn't alone. You were here, right?"

"You knew I was here the whole time?"

"Well yes," the girl said flatly. "You were right below me. _Sun._ I am a lot of things, but blind isn't one of them."

Jay's ability to define her character was nullified, and her unique replies threw him off. He cleared his throat and shuffled his shoe into the grass.

"Callie, why do you continue to say _Sun_?" He asked, disallowing a judgmental tone from entering his question.

"Do I? _Sun_. I don't even notice anymore. _Sun, Sun, Sun_."

"You don't?" Jay asked with a chuckle.

"It's part of my powers," she said neutrally. "It comes from my ability to talk to plants."

Jay was instantly dumbfounded, and stepped closer to the bark of the tree. "Callie, that's incredible!" He lauded. "How does it.. how does it work?"

"It's hard to explain," she said with a shy smile, her appearance mostly shrouded behind a tuft of think leaves. "It's like an impulse. It's not like some movie where we have conversations and the trees tell me about their daily lives. Nope - _sun_- not like that at all."

"Forgive me, but what _is_ it like?"

"The more I communicate with plants, the more I think like them. Plants operate with an impulse – well you could call it that - but it's not entirely accurate. _Sun_." She said, a little shocked that anyone would be interested in her, or her abilities. "Because of my powers, my body requires many of the same factors that plants need. You know, _Sun_, water, soil and stuff like that. But because plants think with impulses, so do I, and that's why my brain blurts out what it needs. _Sun, sun, sun."_

Jay's eyes widened and he took the liberty to hop onto one of the branches of the tree.

"Callie, that's the most profound ability I think I've ever heard of!" He said fervently, allowing the new distance between them to settle in. "And excuse me for asking, but would you ever find yourself saying the likes of 'sleep,' or 'orange juice,' aloud? Is it every-time your body seeks something, your brain says it?"

"Not really," said Callie, shading herself further with the leaves. "It's only the necessities for the _plant_ part of me that works with impulses. Everything else is – _sun_ – normal. So no, I'd never shout out 'orange juice,' without being in control of it," she giggled.

"So your body requires sun, is that why you're saying it?"

"Probably. _Sun, sun_. If plants had mouths, they would be saying the same things as me."

Jay smiled and allowed the information to process. "I've never heard anything like this. I am at a loss to how I haven't met you before." Jay said, shrugging with an inkling of disbelief.

"I don't – _sun_- put myself out there, all that much." She replied.

"That's a shame."

As their conversation continued, Jay learned more and more about plant life and how Callie explained it to be more complicated than she originally made it out to be. Callie emitted tranquility and Jay found himself at ease around her. In fact, Jay had a magnetic compass in him that seemed to point towards strong-willed people. He liked that she didn't compromise herself for others, and he liked the fact she was passionate about something. He was a passionate person too, after all, but he never saw such enthusiasm from a mutant regarding the complexities of their powers. Jay nuzzled into the bark behind him, and openly admitted to enjoying the girl's company.

With agreements to meet again – at the same location and time – Jay headed off and affably apprised his new acquaintance of his departure. He needed to head back to his dorm.

Luckily it was still early enough to be in the halls, and so Jay had no need to climb through the window and scare Josh again.

He reached the door, and fiddled with his keys before sticking them in and twisting. The door popped open, and Jay walked in, turning around and closing the door behind him.

"Josh, just letting you know I've returned," he called out, as he stuffed his keys back into his pocket. With no reply, Jay figured that Josh was still out and so the mutant turned the corner, towards his bed.

But the air was sucked from his lungs as he was met with the body of a golden mutant, who lay bleeding on the floor.

"Oh my – Josh!" Jay called out, rushing to his roommate and dropping to his knees, penetrating the now smooth puddle of blood that surrounded the boy. "Josh, wake up. Stay with me."

The auburn headed student twirled Josh to his back and placed his head onto his lap. Jay immediately checked the Californian's pulse, something they were taught to do by the school soon after arrival. Josh's pulse was surprisingly strong and Jay allowed some minor relief to imbue his panic.

"Josh? Can you hear me? What happened?"

Josh's dilated pupils peered up at Jay, and a dry mouth bobbed up and down faintly. The blood had slid off of Josh's skin like oil to vinegar, but the mutant's blonde hair had been tainted with a crimson swamp of musky blood.

"They never loved me," he gasped, with a suffering groan of woe.

"Good, that's good. Continue to speak to me."

After an arid croak, Josh's words managed to form an audible moan, and Jay patiently allowed the mutant to gather his thoughts.

"I tripped." The golden mutant coughed, the realization of his environment hit him. "I slipped and banged my head."

"Let me look at the wound. If it's severe, I will call Dr. McCoy."

Before Josh could protest, Jay's widened eyes stopped him in his attempts, and his roommate suddenly peered down at him, with a look of confusion etched onto his face.

"Josh," Jay said with disbelief, "I'm uncertain of _how_, but.. there _is_ no wound."

Josh's gaze fell upon the pool of blood around him, and then he looked back up at his roommate. "But where did all the blood come from?" he croaked.

"My question exactly."

Jay continued to flick through Josh's hair, searching for a cut, a wound, an incision, or _anything_ that could be the portal to the flow of blood. But there was nothing. There wasn't a single bruise, cut or bump on the boy's head.

"Josh. There's nothing here. This _is_your blood, I'm correct?"

"No, I kill rabbits in my spare time. You got me… Of course it's my blood," Josh hissed, with a wiry worm in his throat sanding and gritting his words.

"No, I didn't mean.. My apologies. I'm just at a loss to how, and why, there is no wound, but when there is a copious amount of blood here."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Josh grumbled.

"The only explanation is.. No, it _couldn't_ be," Jay whispered, unsure of who he was addressing exactly.

"What? What do you think?" Josh rebuked impatiently, before crawling from Jay's hold and pulling himself out of the puddle of blood.

"I.. Josh, I think.. I.. I think you could be a healer," Jay said with disbelief.

"I thought maybe the wound was covered by your hair, but frankly, Josh, there is no wound. It's evident that you may have healed yourself before any permanent damage was established."

"B.. but.. how could someone like me be a healer? I'm the last person that should have a power like that," Josh shrieked, his head spinning. "How will we know for certain?"

"You'd have to injure yourself and see if it heals."

"Let's do it, I want to know. Punch me in the nose," Josh demanded, raising his chin to give Jay a clear shot. "Make it fast."

Jay's eyebrow flicked up and a frown befell him as he wiped the blood on his hands onto his shirt. "If you think I will hurt you over a hypothesis, then you're mistaken. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to do anything like that."

"Come on, you'd get to do what someone in the school is bound to do anyway. Think of it as first dibs," Josh ameliorated, bracing himself for a punch, "but make it fast."

"Josh, stop this. I won't do it. I will not risk breaking your nose for the sake of an experiment."

"Then how will I ever know?" Josh hissed. "You people are such hypocrites! You're all about poking and prodding and helping each other live in this happy world of mutants, but when it comes down to it, none of you will do shit! This is a joke. I'm just asking for your help!"

"Come with me," Jay said with a quiet tone. "Reduce your complaining and follow me," he insisted, opening the window and throwing a leg out. "There are other ways to test this."

A labyrinth of confusion circled Josh, as he watched Jay climb out the window, but with a deep breath, Josh stood to his feet, and was surprised at how unimpaired he felt. "Wait for me," he called, with a moan.

Jay waited at the bottom of the building. Josh had rappelled down the side of it, climbing onto the roofs of balconies below and snatching onto tufts of ivy for support.

"How do you do this so often? Is it a mutant thing?" Josh whispered, seeds of acrimony in his voice.

"Perhaps," replied Jay nonchalantly. "I've only seen two people descend it, and _both_ of them are mutants."

Josh growled to himself before following Jay, who marked the direction by walking around the institute. "Where are we going?" Josh asked with demand. "What if we get caught?"

"A place to confirm your abilities, and I don't really care," replied Jay, answering both of Josh's questions in one. With a dissatisfied huff, Josh shuffled closer to Jay, who was now walking with unhidden haste. "If you don't care then why are you walking so fast?"

"Because I'm eager to get to the bottom of this enigma," replied Jay blankly, giving nothing for Josh to respond to.

They reached the back of the institution, and Josh's eyes fell upon an ascending green field, with a large oak-tree at the foot of the slope.

Jay walked past the tree, and a puzzled Josh followed duly. They walked against gravity as they trekked up the field, and upon reaching the zenith, Josh looked back and saw the institute in it's fullest form, as they stood an elevated distance away. As Josh turned around, his eyes were met by a field of which hosted a grouping of trees. Josh huffed at the mystery of the entire scheme, and marched up behind Jay.

"Why did you bring me here?" he complained, "I thought we were going to investigate something, not go on a hike!"

"Are you superstitious, Josh?" asked Jay, who walked ahead neutrally.

"No, I'm not. Why would I be?"

"I'm going to need you to be for the next fifteen minutes," Jay requested, looking ahead at the outside of a ring of trees before him.

"Wh.. what are you talking about? Is this some crazy mutant ceremony? I swear if this is some kind of trap –"

"Just humor me."

Josh conceded and allowed himself to deflate. "Fine, whatever, but explain to me what's going on because you're giving me the creeps."

"What you're looking at," Jay said, signaling to the ring of trees before him, "is a _fairy fort_. In Irish mythology, they were the home of the Old Gods, or what we now know as fairies." His eyes tensed as a serious expression befell him.

"If someone tried cut down, ruin, or even accidentally snap a branch from a fairy fort, they'd curse the land with misfortunes and tragedy. I'm simply asking you not to do any of the things I just mentioned. Do not break even the smallest of branches from a tree. Do you understand me?"

Josh's brain twirled and he finally lost track of what was going on. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but fine, I won't break a branch." He scratched his head and fixed his neck so that he viewed the fairy fort in its full glory.

The trees were perfectly aligned in a circular manner, with the tops bent over like crippled old men, and they gently poked each other with jagged twigs. The leaves sparkled with a faint purple, and Josh wondered how Jay knew so much about the formation.

"Where do they come from? Why would there be a fairy fort in New York State?" asked Josh, as his eyes fixed on the variety of trees in the circle.

"History says that they're the remnants of hill forts, or settlements of ancient people. But folklore says that they are the homes of "The Good People," or in other words, fairies. Of course I do not believe there are fairies there, but I do not wish to chance my luck with the implications of breaking an ancient law," said Jay, who turned to face Josh. "I don't know why there'd be one here, and maybe it's not a fairy fort at all, but from my knowledge of them, it looks exactly like one."

Josh twitched his nose before absorbing the information given to him. "That's fun and great, but how does this help me confirm anything?" the golden teenager questioned

"Follow me."

Jay approached the fairy fort and parted the maroon tinted leaves that decorated the fort with a violet skirt of petals. As they crossed through the ring, they found themselves in a mossy clearing, with only a few trees growing inside from the circle and planting themselves in the middle of the gap.

Jay beckoned Josh over to him, before pointing to a jagged branch of a tree. From it, hung a light-blue birdcage; the bars glimmered faintly from the reflection of the moonlight, and the metallic shine emitted a weak glow of a soporific blue. After questioning the reality and pondering the possibility of being in a dream, Josh reluctantly approached his roommate and slowly turned to face the cage. As Josh's eyes scanned it, he saw that inside, was what seemed to be a Bluebird, with an awry wing that jutted below its belly, and clouded eyes above ruffled feathers – testaments to a courageous battle that the bird was lucky to have survived.

"This is Azura," said Jay, with a proud smile. "I was walking through the field that we crossed on the way here, when I discovered her in a tuft of grass. Her wing is fractured and her eyes have been pecked by a predator, so it seems," He placed his finger through the ribs of the cage and gently rubbed the soft plumage of the bird.

"I couldn't bring her back to the school incase her chirping brought attention to our dorm. To protect her from harm, I put her in this cage that I found in the janitor's storage shed." Jay stopped and smiled as the bird flapped its healthy wing and trilled a melodic tune. "I've been trying to nurse her back to health but she isn't improving. I fear that the infection in her eye will spread, or that the bone will set in its fractured position."

Josh felt a crispy warmth crackle through his body, and his roommate's compassion slightly shocked him, and contradicted the teachings of his past. "B.. but what do you want me to do?" The golden student asked, unworthiness slowly injecting itself into his ease.

"Isn't it clear, Josh?" asked Jay, the amethyst chroma of the foliole flecking an orchid glint in his usually hazel eyes. "I want you to heal her."

A codified fear rippled inside the teenager, and he felt miniscule trembles in his hands slowly spread to this fingertips.

"I.. I.. I don't think I can.. I mean, we don't even know for certain," Josh responded, Blair's words uneven to the compassion of his roommate.

"What if I hurt her?"

"You wont," Jay said softly, as he opened the cage and picked up Azura with two hands.

"Think about it, Josh. Think about healing her. Think about making her pain go away. Think about mending what is broken." He stopped before placing a confident hand on Josh's shoulder. "You can do it, Josh. You can do anything you put your mind to. Just _think_."

Josh babbled over his words, as confusion whacked his temples, and the certainty he had for the content in Blair's preaching, began to obfuscate and blur. Jay's sudden confidence in him had defied Blair's definition of a mutant, and suddenly, Josh was temporarily numb to what made sense.

"But if it's not my power, I don't think I –"

"Just try," Jay interjected with a soft whisper.

"I haven't known you long, but I know that you can do this. I know that if this is your power, then this is what you are made to do. I believe in you, Josh. The only person exerting doubt, is you."

The golden teenage gulped. Was this it? Was this what he was supposed to do? Was this why he became a mutant? Was it all meant to be? Was he put on this world to do exactly this? _To think?_ To _heal?_

Josh cupped his hands and Jay gently placed Azura into them. The bird floundered in his palms before plopping down with a shrill chirp.

"You can do it Josh."

The blonde closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to claim him. Josh could feel the life of the bird in his hand, and its tenuous heartbeat lubdubed against the golden skin of his palms. The fear and anguish of his last weeks poured away, and the expected face of Blair never came. He could feel the presence of Dalores and Barnell from behind him, and as he felt the exchange of life between he and the other entity, his chronic sadness gave birth to a sudden, yet nascent ebullience.

One of the chains that fettered him to Blair's teachings began to disintegrate, and Josh's image of the man remained eschewed in the shadows of his mind.

An ember of jubilance danced in his stomach, as the soft feathers of the bird tickled his palm. His body felt light and Josh almost felt as if he was floating away. He was no longer in a forest, or in a field behind a school of mutants, he was simply in a prism of wonder – a prism that blocked all the experiences that prevented him from feeling again.

The worries and depression that fogged his mind momentarily slipped, and Josh shut his eyes tighter to hold onto the sensation. An unexpected vacuity of negativity swirled in his stomach and the teenager filled it with the feelings of felicity and delight.

In that moment, he felt no ties, no strings, and no connections to the teachings in his past, and Joshua Foley, for a brief second, in that exact moment, felt free.

Joshua Foley felt free.

He opened his eyes to see Jay staring at him: joy and pride emitting from his pupils, as his teeth glowed in the darkness beyond his smile. Josh carried his gaze towards his cupped hands, which were now empty, and his eyes opened wide before he looked at Jay in bewilderment.

"She's gone," said Jay with a deep, earthy tone, as he brought a hand to rest on Josh's shoulder.

"W.. what do you mean?" Josh asked.

"She flew away five minutes ago. You did it Josh, you're a healer, just as I expected. You saved Azura's life, and now, she's free."

"You mean.. It worked? I.. I.. did it?" Josh asked, staring at his hands in disbelief. "I.. I can't believe.. I saved her life?"

"Yes you did. You saved a life that nature had rendered obsolete. You gave her another chance. It was all you. _You_ did that."

A heavy pant crossed Josh, and he lowered his hands and inclined his head. "I.. I.. I don't know how I should feel. My mind is all messed up."

"_How_ did it feel?" Jay asked, bringing his hand from Josh's shoulder to close the door of the cage.

"It felt.." A pane of guilt hit Josh as he reluctantly acquiesced to the reality of his emotions during the experience. "It felt.. _incredible_."

The teenager stopped in his tracks, before asking another question that began to loom over him. "B.. but why?" Josh continued. "Why did you save her? If there was no hope for her, why did you keep her in that cage?"

"Because I _had_ hope," Jay responded. "If that was me, I would want to be saved."

"But she's a bird, and you're not. There's a difference between saving a bird and a person."

"Not for me," Jay said, as a smile tipped at his lips.

"Y..You've lost me."

Without a word, Jay pulled his shirt from over his head and stretched his arms. His hands reached behind his back, and when a five pieces of thick string fell to the floor, Josh's eyes widened at the sight before him.

Two rustic auburn wings flowed out from behind the mutant, and elegantly bobbed in sync with the sway of the violet leaves from behind. They were double Jay's size, and their magnitude framed Jay with an aura sacred divinity. The chestnut overlay of feathers gently lapped over the rosewood hue of those beneath, and the refined, convex tips swirled at the end with an august flick, permitting Josh to a sublime, royal sight. He stood dumbfounded at the view, and unlike his reaction to Ben's mutation, Josh found the sight to transcend anything he had ever seen before.

"You.. you have wings.. that's your mutation?" Josh asked.

"Amongst other things, yes," said Jay with a smile, before breaking it with a deep laugh. "Although I'm surprised you haven't exerted animosity towards me yet."

Still astonished by the ailerons before him, Josh's thoughts were broken from their transition to words, and he gently lowered himself against the same tree that fashioned the birdcage.

"This can't be real," he elucidated, "Blair can't be wrong.. Blair _could not_ be wrong.. He could never say anything bad about this - about your mutation. It's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. Something is wrong … It.. it doesn't add up."

Josh's wide eyes reflected his confusion, and Jay stepped closer, feeling a root of concern poke at his insides.

"Nothing is amiss," he said, picking up his shirt and lunging it over his shoulder. "Are you okay, Josh? Who is Blair?"

With those words, the tranquility in Josh's mind was sucked from his consciousness and the blonde found himself scurrying away from his roommate.

"I.. .. I..I have to go. I can't.. I'm not.. I.. I'm not one of you."

Jay attempted to step closer to Josh, but the teenager leaped backwards and shambled away from him.

"Josh don't go!" Jay shouted with worry, as Josh's figure became fainter, before the darkness consumed it. "We can beat this! We can overcome what's in your head. Just come _back_!"

But with no reply, Josh was gone and Jay slid down the bark of the tree before taking a deep breath. Josh's blood was still on his hands, and illuminated them with a ruby smear.

As he stared at his roommate's blood, Josh's face assembled itself in his mind, and a pang of concern churned in Jay's diaphragm.

"What happened to you?" He asked, his eyes fixed on his palms. "What made you like this?"

The neon-tinted glow of the fort outlined itself in the husk of the night. And as the school slept, Jay would remain in the circle for hours to come.

But unbeknownst to him, Josh, or anyone else in the institution, as the golden teenager scurried from the fairy fort, a clandestine scion had been snagged from its trunk during the abrupt departure, and it mutely spiraled to the mossy floor of the clearing…

"_If someone tried cut down, ruin, or even accidentally snap a branch from a fairy fort, they'd curse the land with misfortunes and tragedy.."_

.. A silly superstition, perhaps.

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Fairy forts are real, believe it or not, and there's actually one in front of my house! That's where the inspiration came from ;). So feel free to search away for a picture of one.. I personally think they're pretty darn cool. (Oh and the one in this story is much more enclosed than the ones in real life :-)) Thanks to you all for reading!


	6. I Used To Blame Me

Sorry for the late update! I usually like to update more frequently than this (especially before September,) but this week and last were so crazy because I was at the Olympics (Diving all the way!) Anyway, hugely inspired to include some experiences in the up coming chapters :-)

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Two nights ago, Josh's words of scorn had sent Laurie back to a place she never used to let herself dwell in for too long.

"_You've never needed anything in your life."_

As the sound of that sentence stabbed Laurie and punctured the thin veneer that blocked her from descending into a dark place, she found herself floundering at the bottom of a mental well. It had taken her years to come to terms with her father's death, and like that, with one untactful sentence from a person she barely knew, she was pushed from the cliffs of acceptance, and down to the oceans of remourse.

Laurie's back bumped against her bedframe as she sobbed into her knees and fondled a familiar locket around her neck. She had spent the entire day – and yesterday - in her room, with the curtains closed, and the door locked; she knew at some stage, someone would come to check on her, but she didn't care. When she got back from the tour with Josh, the blonde's roommate, Noriko, had spent the entire night ranting about Emma Frost's fulsome venture in shiny diamonds and glistening pearls,and so the girl never noticed Laurie crying under her bed-sheets.

The next morning, Laurie stayed in her bed again, and decided not to bother attending her classes; of course, that went against everything she believed in, but she couldn't face the others with those doleful and salty circles that surrounded her eyes.

That night, Noriko's boisterous aspersions upon Emma had enshrouded Laurie's crying again, and Noriko took her roommate's sobs to be moans of approval.

And now it was Wednesday morning, and Laurie felt as if she had cried half the week away. The olfactory essence of salted copper emitted from the locket around her neck, and rectangular pink dents formed on her palms as she clenched to it tightly.

It was her only link to him; the only thing that made Laurie feel like he was with her. She remembered his smile when he gave it to her, and how it comforted her after he was deployed to the gulf. It was the last physical connection she had to him, and it was the only thing that helped her quell the sadness and fear.

Laurie had tried to teach herself that this fear was subject to her control. Despite her eventual acceptance of her father's death, the fear of fear itself had become the principal factor in throwing her back into a frenzy of emotions. Laurie told herself that the only person who was making her feel this terror - was her, and that there was no outside factor that gave her these feelings; the only person who could step above her troubles was herself, and it took years before Laurie came to understand this.

But she was yet to master such an ability, and Laurie couldn't help but sometimes tumble back to the feelings that haunted her when she was told of her father's death. She couldn't believe that fate would be so cruel, that fate would allow her father to die, in light of her last words to him; they were like something out of a movie, and Laurie couldn't accept what they were. She couldn't accept that the person she idolized her entire life, walked out the door hearing _those_ words as the last from his daughter's mouth.

"_I hate you."_

She groaned into her knees, as a fresh pang of guilt echoed inside her; except, _guilt_ was an earthly definition of her emotions: it felt closer to an emotional equivilant of a few thousand cars speeding through a highway and into a tunnel. _She_ was the tunnel, and her _guilt_ was the cars. The pain was almost tangible, and Laurie coughed into her pillow.

Her father died thinking that she hated him – as far as Laurie was once concerned, and it took years before she could accept that her father, was _a_ father, and didn't put much weight on the outbursts of a teenage girl. But still, a seed of _'what if,' _oscillated and floated in the back of her mind, like a floured ghost gently bobbing over a darkened marble, and leaving powdery footprints of doubt, in the peripheral of her mind.

What if he thought she was serious? What if her immature outburst actually affected him? What if he died thinking that his only daughter – his only _child_ – hated him?

And Laurie's shoulders shrunk into her arms and the girl's head fell into her knees once again.

Is this what Josh wanted? Did he want her to feel this way? Was this something he got enjoyment out of? Laurie shut her eyes as her mind warned her from seeing him again.

She detested how he made her feel, and she didn't want to see him again – she didn't care if he left. He was the person at the beginning of the fallen dominos, and Laurie couldn't help but associate him with those feelings of guilt and loss that she felt when she stood outside the church in the pouring rain, with no-one to comfort her save the coppery moans of the funeral knell.

She just wanted to stay in bed, with no lights, no interactions, and no work; she wanted to be alone.

But as her brain began to settle into the idea, a knock was heard at the door and Laurie's skin quickly went on end.

"Laur, It's Ben. Y'there?" he asked, from behind the door.

Laurie quickly threw her face into the pillow and blocked her uncontrollable cries.

"Ah can hear ya in there," he stated again, knocking on the wood to reinforce his words. "Ah can break down this door, Laur."

Laurie sighed, conceded, and wobbled to her feet. She felt her head spin before she patted her eyes to negate the effects of her tears, and with a reluctant click, the door opened, and Laurie's face appeared behind the musky darkness of the room behind. Ben's eyes opened widely, and his flames made her eyes squint.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his brows raising with surprise.

His concern undid Laurie, and her brief collected composure crumbled beneath her and she suddenly felt the tears press against her lower eyelids.

"N.. nothing," she croaked, trembles in her voice protesting her words, "I'm just sick."

"Bull," Ben replied, taking a step towards her. "Utter bull. Wha's happened, Laur?"

"N.. nothing."

"S'me, y'can trust me."

"I know, but it's nothing," Laurie reiterated, as a tear escaped a blink of her eye. As it fell down her cheek, Laurie grasped the locket around her neck and Ben's eyes followed her hand as it did so.

"Oh," he sighed, his head tilting. "Ah'm sorry Laur. Ah shudd'v realized." He wrapped two soothing arms around her broken frame, and the compassion broke the last of Laurie's decorum, as she shattered into his embrace.

"I miss him, Ben. I thought I had moved on, but every now and then, something happens and I just crumble."

"And wha'happened?" Ben asked.

"I was with Josh two nights ago or so, and I pushed him a bit far. He got mad and said something that reminded me of Dad – he said that I've never lost anything in my life."

Ben's embrace intensified and Laurie cursed her words as she could feel a grumble of anger vibrate inside of him.

"Ah can find th'little bastard," Ben growled. "He has no right t'say 'nything like tha'to you."

"He didn't know," Laurie sighed. "He was just lashing out again, but he just hit home, that's all."

Ben, unconvinced, took a humid breath of air before continuing. "Ah warned him tha' the wee outburst in th'café would be his last. At this stage, Laur, Ah think s'better off if he just leaves."

"Maybe you're right, but promise you won't go looking for him? I know you're angry about this, but I'd really appreciate if you could let him off the hook."

"T'will be hard," Ben admitted, unwrapping his arms from Laurie, "But ah'll do it fer you."

She faintly smiled before sniffing away the history of her tears. "I should've listened to you and stayed away from him, Ben. He's broken, and I knew that after I told him that little fact about the school, that he'd probably act on it. I didn't want him to leave based on something I'd said. I didn't want to be responsible if anything happened to him, but you were right all along – he's old enough to make his own decisions. I should've listened. I should never have gotten mixed up with him."

"Y'were doin' what y'thought was right," Ben consoled, placing a firm hand on his almost-sister's shoulder. "Some people can't see th'good in others, they just thaink tha' everybody's out t'gettem. S'not yer fault tha' he's bitter, Laur. Yes, y'should've listened, but ah don' blame ya fer not." He smiled warmly, and widened his expression, before he continued. "And about his wee comment: Ah'd be lyin' if Ah said tha' Ah didn't wanna box his face in Noriko-style, but Ah don't see no point in it. There's no point breakin' the broken, right?"

Laurie's shoulders bore the brunt of Ben's words, and she felt herself slide out of her repose of tranquility, before the urge to cry was held back, and the need to wobble her bottom lip was restrained, as Laurie gathered her thoughts and hesitantly transmuted them to words.

"But isn't that what Josh did?" she asked, swiping an eluded tear. "Break the already broken?"

Almost knocking the breath out of her, Ben snatched Laurie into his arms once again and her nose suddenly stabbed into the flesh above his collar-bone.

"You are not broken, Laur," he said, both arms up against her back and clasping the edges of her shoulders. "You're not bitter aht the world. You're not the one wittha hatred towards everyone."

"I know that, but it doesn't mean I'm okay."

"No, but we're all entitled t'feeling down, Laur." He stopped and shook his head, before a brief silence engulfed them; Ben broke it, however, and Laurie was pulled from a respite in the conversation. "Ah thaink Ah know what'cha need," he declared with inspired zeal, ungripping Laurie and placing two firm hands onto her shoulders, while keeping his arms straight. "Go to the shelter. Remember th'last time y'were down intha dumps? Y'went to the shelter and it made'ya feel better. When's the last time y'went?"

"About six months ago," Laurie sniffed, forcing a smile. "I think you're right. That's what I need. I need to see how lucky I am to have so many people that care about me. And they could use some help there, I feel awful that I haven't been helping out in a while."

"Then go." Ben said, smiling fervently. "I'll tell th'teachers you're sick."

"I am," Laurie said with a renewed wink, before slouching her shoulders and tilting her eyes towards the floor. "Thanks, Ben. You came to the rescue again. Where would I be without you?"

"In yer room, on yer bed, and crying," Ben chuckled.

"Ha! Well you're right. I guess there's no point wasting my time crying when I could be doing something else."

"S'okay to cry, Laur, y'just needed a wee pep-talk s'all."

"That's probably it," said Laurie, turning around to face her room, pressing every bit of confidence from herself that she could. "I should probably get some things together before I go."

"I'll come find'ya after class, okay? You'll be back by then, right?"

"Well, " Laurie said, "If it's 9am now, then I should be back later tonight – this is a full day's work."

"Of course," Ben sighed, wiping his fore-head. "You're a _big girl_ nai, Ah gettit."

"Exactly," Laurie chirped before turning fully into her room. "No need to worry, I'll be back later."

"Be careful out there, Laur."

"I will, Ben. I will."

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Sherry and the others had built a haven for the homeless children inside an abandoned bungalow, and Laurie found herself outside its entrance. The pebbled walls supported the tiled roof, which rested above the inhabitants with weakened strength, and the newly-shattered windows managed to sparkle like jagged knives.

The black gate at the egress had been covered with over-grown weeds and roots, which claimed its metal as their own, and the rusted swings and forgotten seesaw longed for better days, as the grass had almost completely enveloped their bases.

The blueness in the sky had been completely zapped by the presence of the overlapping clouds, and Laurie felt a shiver of uneasiness trickle inside of her, at the bleak ambience of the place.

The stones of the footpath were mashed into the muddy soil beneath, and Laurie had to be extra careful so that she didn't slip face-first into it. An ominious wind gushed past her face and her uneasiness intensified as she felt as if it was almost a harbinger of some kind.

But Laurie calmed her unexplainable worries by reminding herself of how lucky she was. She had sneaked out of Xaviers without being spotted by anyone from the outside and due to her normal appearence, she safetly eluded through the avenues of Salem Center and sucessfully crossed over to the empty paths of St. Finchley's Court.

St. Finchley's had once boasted an ostentatious address, and many wealthy families once settled there. The bungalow at the end of the street had been the first building there, and many of the wealthy families wished to see it knocked, as it dimished from the colonial archetecture of which _their_ houses boasted. When Sherry and the others bought the bungalow to use as a shelter for homeless children, it apparently deducted from the the value of the street and soon put St. Finchley's Ct below the now-famos Angelian Circle. As soon as Finchley's was no longer the top address of North Salem, the families began to leave and the street was left empty, scarred with the knocked foundations of the colonial homes that once existed. The only standing building left, was the original bungalow that stood there since day one.

Laurie knocked on the door a few times as the wind gusted through her hair. Losing her zeal, she gave one last bang at the door before it popped open, and a familiar face poked from behind.

"Laurie?" asked the red-haired woman.

"Sherry, hi!" the blonde cheered, grinning widely. "I just thought I'd pop by and offer a hand. I'm sorry it's been so long, I feel awful. But I just thought I'd lend a hand today, if that's alright with you."

"Of course it's alright with me!" Sherry chuckled, opening the door and greeting Laurie with a hug. "How has school been? Are you keeping your grades up?"

Laurie laughed and shrugged. "You didn't just ask me that?"

"Oops sorry! I forgot who I was speaking to."

Laurie's eyes gazed upon the hall before her. The wallpaper was still torn, and the holes in the walls emitted a dripping sound from the rusted pipes behind them.

Old rugs were used to cover the chipped wooden floor, and white arches on the ceiling began to age with fainted yellow stains. The windows that were unshattered were depressed by layers of dust that had gathered due to years of neglect.

Laurie noticed that the curtains had been torn from their poles, and the lamps were denuded of their light bulbs. Before Laurie had a chance to process her curiosity, Sherry spoke up and answed Laurie's almost-questions.

"Guess you're wondering about the look," said the middle-aged woman with a huff. Laurie nodded, and she continued.

"Well it's never been pristine, as you know, but recently we've had to take precautions."

"Precautions? For what?"

"The people from other streets don't like the thought of having a homeless shelter so nearby. Y'know, because apparently the children here carry disease."

Laurie huffed and indicated for Sherry to continue.

"Well anyway, it started with the odd egg here and there thrown our way. Misty and the girls didn't mind clearing it up, but when it became bottles of piss, it was too much."

"Bottles of – oh my God, Sherry.."

"So much for rich folk having high standards. They're about as classy as mindless hookers," interjected Sherry with a growl, her stress evident in the rings under her eyes. "After that, we started getting rocks through the windows, and smoke bombs in the mailbox. The snobby bastards apparently have a problem with us just _being_ here."

Laurie sighed with concern and flicked her hair out of her eyes before an indignant Sherry continued.  
"Then one night, we came outside to see all our blankets, bedsheets, you name it, burning in the back garden." Laurie interrupted with a gasp and Sherry went on. "I don't know how they got'em, but they managed to break in and take them. So we've been using the drapes to keep the kids warm. Misty thought it was best to keep the lights off so that they wouldn't know which rooms we're in."

Laurie forced back an angry tear and her breath shuddered with guilt. "Sherry, I'm so sorry. You could have called me, I would've brought you some blankets, or anything for that matter."

"We're a tough crowd," Sherry said with a smile. "We always land on our feet. Aint nothing that can fall on our heads."

"I don't understand.. why would they have a problem with you being here? Isn't Finchley St empty now?" Laurie asked with a puzzled expression.

"Knockin' their houses and clearing the streets aint enough for them no more. They don't like us being in North Salem _at all_. This here area is too _rich_ to have a homeless shelter," replied Sherry, making no efforts to hide the spit in her voice. "All we're trying to do is give better lives to these kids, but we can't as long as these people want us out. We're tellin' the kids that it's just a game, but they aint stupid, Laur. They know something is up."

"Of course they do," Laurie conceded. "Where are they now? Are they okay? How about Misty and the girls?"

"We've lost two. Cynthia and Mary couldn't hack it no more. They said that couldn't live like this, and they left. Shows ya who your real friends are, don't it?"

Laurie had become numb to the bad news, and nodded in agreement. "So there's only five of you left?"

"That's it. Just Misty, Blanch, Lily, Elle and myself."

"Well I'll do my best to come over more. Winter is coming, and the kids will need more help staying warm. I can bring some blankets, food, water or anything you guys need. Just let me know," Laurie said with a reassuring smile. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks Laur," Sherry replied with an uplifted expression. "Lily, Elle and Blanch have been workin' in the city and bringing back money to keep food on the table, but we welcome every bit of help we can get. My folks back in Alabama have been sending me some cash – nothing much, just a few bucks here and there – but it helps a lot. Even a dollar is goldust 'round here." The woman paused briefly, before shaking her head and waving to Laurie, as she advanced down the halls. "But you must be eggin' to see the kids. Come this way."

Laurie followed accordingly, and was escourted into a smaller room, where she was met with vibrant yellow walls, and a gritty blue carpet. The windows were surprisingly unscathed and inside, and there were four familiar faces, as well as nine children running and jumping around the floor.

"Laurie!" shouted the adults and children at once, before the mutant was momentarily knocked from her feet, as nine children came charging towards her.

"We've been waiting for you to come back!" said Edmund, as Laurie rubbed her head.

"We thought you'd never come back!" giggled Jane from behind, gently flicking Laurie's hair before erupting in a fit of laughter.

"Misty said she'd call you if you didn't come back sooner or later! We missed you!" declared Sidney, the 7-year old adjacent to Laurie.

As the questions and comments came flying at Laurie, a younger red-haired girl came and parted the ocean of children around the mutant.

"Laurie. It's been too long, girl," chortled Misty, extending a hand to Laurie and pulling her up. "Where did you disappear to? The kids were going crazy waiting for you!"

"I'm sorry," Laurie sighed, "I knew I should've been visiting more regularly but I've just been so busy with school and stuff, you know?"

"Don't get all melancholic with me, girl. We're just happy to have ya!" replied Misty with a grin.

"Well I'm happy to be here! And to see all your faces again!" Laurie remarked, reaching down and ruffling the hair of Edmund, below her.

"I'll leave you with the kids then. No doubt they're killin' to catch up with ya." With a nod from Misty, and a wave from Blanch, Lily and Elle, the door closed and the children cheered as they realized they had Laurie to themselves.

"What did you bring, Laurie? What did you bring?" giggled Jane uncontrollably, as she jumped up and down in excitement. "Did you bring us presents?"

"Presents?" gasped Sidney. "Laurie brought us presents?"

"Laurie brought us _presents_?" asked James, in shock. "What did you bring, Laurie?"

Laurie chuckled and wrapped her arms around the children in front of her. "_Of course_ I brought presents for you all. I'd never forget!"

"No way!" gasped Liam. "For everyone?"

"Each and every one of you," said Laurie with a smile, touched at how excited they were over something so small. "They're not much, but I think you'll like them."

Hope gleamed in the childrens' eyes, and Laurie counted nine of them before, and wondered where the tenth had wandered off to.

"For the boys, Liam, James, Edmund, Buck and Ellis, I brought these," she announced, whipping out five candy canes from her bagpack. "Don't worry, none of them taste like peppermint – they're all cherry flavor."

The boys shrieked with excitement, and they dashed up to Laurie with beaming eyes of joy and longing. The mutant handed them to the group, and the boys ran off with glee. "Thanks Laurie! You're the best!"

Laurie giggled, and turned to face the girls.

"And for my girls," she said with a laugh, met by five wistful faces shining infront of her. Before continuing, she tried to locate the missing child, but her attempts were thwarted under the scrutiny of the anticipating girls.

".. Jane, Sidney, Erika, Leslie and .." The mutant stopped, and her eyes peered across the room one last time.

".. And Haley. Where is Haley?" asked Laurie with an inflection of concern.

"She's in her bedroom," said Erika flatly. "She hasn't been out in a few days. She's crying about something."

"Oh! What about?" asked Laurie.

"I dunno," Erika sang. "Maybe you could ask her."

Laurie hummed before changing her expression to a more positive one for the girls.

"For my girls, I brought five candy sticks," Laurie declared, whipping them from her bags and handing them out to the girls.

"Mmm! Candy Sticks!" cheered Erika and Leslie, as they hopped to their feet. "Thanks a ton, Laurie!"

"Anything for you guys," Laurie replied with a smile, stuffing one candy-stick back into her bag.

"Why don't you all go play with the boys and show them what you got? I bet they'll be really jealous," added Laurie with a grin.

"You bet! Edmund's going to want to swap when he sees this!" remarked Sidney.

The girls scrambled off together and met the boys, who were having a sword fight with their candy canes. For the next thirty minutes, Laurie watched each child roll, run, jump and hop around the room, and she chuckled as each one tried to get her attention. Leslie and Jane managed to make up a dance routine with their candy sticks, and the boys did their best to sabotage it; the girls pretended to protest, but ended up chuckling alongside the boys.

Liam and Ellis continued their sword fight, and Laurie remembered James giving Buck a piggy back during the commotion.

The children had so little, yet were content with just having candycanes and candysticks. They didn't just eat them immediately like other kids, they used them in every possible way they could: sword fights, dance routines, bring home the bacon, everything. You name it, they did it, and Laurie was warmed by their enthusiasm and undying energy over the gifts.

Except, a voice whispered in the back of her head, and Laurie's mind flashed back to the girl who was missing. Erika had mentioned that she was in her room, and Laurie worried that perhaps she was sick. The mutant remembered Haley being the newest member to the family, and even Laurie had been around the shelter longer than she had. The student didn't have much time to get to know Haley the way she knew the other kids, but Laurie knew that Haley would be sad if she came out of her room to see the others with candycanes and sticks, and without one herself.

Since there were only three rooms in the building – the girls' room, boys' room and Sherry's room– Laurie knew where Haley would be, considering Erika was correct.

While the children continued to jump around and play with their new gifts, they never noticed Laurie slide out of the room and advance down the halls with experienced stealth deriving from excessive sneaking in and out of the boys' dorms at Xavier's.

Stopping by the second door to the left, Laurie looked to the sides before gently opening the door with a gentle push. There was a creek, and a crunchy cackle from the hinges, and Laurie cringed as she slid between the gap that she had created between the wall and the door.

Beyond the soggy, dusty aroma, and the opaque wall of darkness, Laurie could hear faint cries from a ruffled shadow to the right of the room. Attempting to flick on the lights, the niches in the walls reminded her that Sherry had taken the lights out of every socket.

With a concerned huff, Laurie approached the shadow to her right and patted around to get a feel for what was around her. The sobs were right beside her, and the mere bleats died at the entrance to the room.

After taking out her phone and shining a light, Laurie sat on the bed, beside a lump in the coverlets and remained there in silence until the moans had whittled to nothing.

"Haley?" whispered Laurie, crossing her legs, which dangled over the edge of the bed. "Are you okay?"

Supplanting a reply, were three scruffy sniffs and a clearing of the throat. The girl didn't respond, and Laurie continued.

"It's Laurie."

Again, there was no reply, and the lump under the duvet twitched briefly and Laurie could see that the girl's head was shoved underneath the pillow.

"I used to do that, you know," exclaimed Laurie with a smile reflecting the coincidence that dawned over her. "Whenever I was sad, I'd always feel so much better when I was alone, in the dark, and with no-one but me and my pillow." The girl smiled to herself and drew her legs to her body, before shuffling her back against the wall which stood along-side the bed.

"Sometimes the thought of being with other people, or putting on a happy face makes you feel sick," she noted, with a hint of experience. "You'd cry, and cry, and the worry that things will never be the same just hurts your head. Everything seems so bad, and you don't look forward to anything." The blonde squeezed her arms around her legs, and tilted her head back.

"And the more people that asked me if I was okay, the more sad I felt, and the more I wanted to wrap myself in my covers and go to sleep. Being alone was the only thing that made any sense." Laurie sighed, and took a breath before closing her eyes and continuing. "I know exactly how you're feeling Haley, because I do the exact same thing."

Finally, the bulge beneath the fabric blossomed into a reddened face of a young girl. Laurie recognized it, and smiled encouragingly as the girl wiped her eyes. She flicked a sandy lock from her face, coughed once or twice, and brought her pupils to look at Laurie in the eyes.

"How do you make it better?" she asked, mimicing Laurie's seating position. "What do you do to make it all go away?"

"I remind myself of the good things," replied the teenager with a fervent smile. "When you're alone and sad, it's easy to get lost in everything that's gone wrong. But if you can get yourself to remember what you have, and how lucky you are to have it, then you'll feel better. That's what works for me."

The girl shuffled, and wiped a salty eye before resting her chin on her curled knees.

"But I don't have anything," replied Hayley with a doleful inflection. "Daddy gave me everything, but now he's gone to heaven. Now he's gone too, and I don't have anyone."

"That's not true," Laurie said, trying to sweep her emotions under the girl's words with a flick of the mind, "you have people that care about you here."

"But they're not Daddy."

"Yes," Laurie conceded with a drawl, "But that doesn't mean they don't care for you. Think about it like this: Wouldn't your Daddy want you to be happy?"

"Yes," replied Haley with a sniff.

"And wouldn't he be happy knowing that you're at least safe and with a roof over your head?"

"Yes,"

"Then that means your Daddy is happy right now. He's looking over you smiling, because he knows that his daughter is safe. Isn't that a good thing?" Laurie asked, fighting back a tear of her own, as the conversation sprouted _close to home_.

The girl's complexion lightened up, and her puffy red cheeks began to deflate, and the circles around her eyes began to dissappate.

"You think Daddy is happy in heaven?" the girl asked, as hope and content bled into her eyes.

Laurie shivered as a picture of her own father glued itself in her mind, and she shook her head with a subtle nod. The girl's eyes beaded before her, and the light of Laurie's phone reflected the transmuted emotions in her irises.

"Of course he's happy in heaven," Laurie remarked with a shaky husk to her voice. "His little girl is safe and warm. If I were him, I'd be proud because my daughter has become so strong and sensitive despite everything she's been through."

A gentle coo of the wind outside enriched the newly befallen silence, and Haley and Laurie sat together, content with the presence of each other. The conversation with the young girl had hit home with Laurie, and the girl did her best to keep her emotions quelled. Seeing the manner of which Haley expressed her distress, was a near-perfect replicate of Laurie's expression of her own remourse when her father died.

A recognized empathy encompassed the girls, and both knew of what the other was thinking. Laurie could see it in Haley's face, and Haley in Laurie's. Images of their respective fathers danced in their minds, and the girls' silence was enough to prove the emotional hypothesis.

As the wind howled again, and an antique wall clock hummed the hour, Haley broke the silence with a question that almost undid Laurie entirely. She flicked her sandy hair out of her face, and the clip that pulled two locks from her countenance, fell behind her and caused her hair to bob to her shoulders, as the question loomed over Laurie like the ominous groans of the church bell.

"What about your Daddy, Laurie?"

The loss, the emptiness, the void, all of them came seeping into Laurie's mind and suddenly the girl could grasp onto the feelings she felt at the funeral – the feelings she now associated with Josh.

Laurie could hear the caws of the ravens that eyed her from the gutters, and she could smell the hickory scent of the burning incense; the blonde could taste the barren crumbs of the Communion bread, and touch the stony walls of the blood-drained church. Her senses came about her, and suddenly the girl felt overwhelmed by the question.

Her mind shot her back to the moment her knees pressed against the cushions of the pues, and suddenly Laurie felt as if she was reliving the experience all over again. She remembered the promise she made, back when she blamed herself for her father's death – back when she thought he didn't fight for his life on the basis of her last selfish words to him. She muttered the words of the promise to herself, and the teenager felt light-headed as she found herself contradicting her earlier words to Ben:

"_I'll never lose anyone, ever again."_

Her brain picturized Josh, and imagined him leaving the gates of Xaviers and into the toothy mouth of society, which waited to chew him up, and spit him out again. She couldn't let him leave; she couldn't lose someone again, despite how horrible he was to her, or how little significance he held in her life. She couldn't sit through another funeral, and feel those same sensations all over again. She would break before she'd go back on that promise she once made, and Laurie found herself, once again, feeling responsible for the potential departure of Joshua Foley.

She couldn't sit through another funeral.

Not after the first one.

Not after losing someone so close to her.

Haley gently poked her, but received no response and so the young girl leaned her head against the mutant's shoulder, before tilting her eyes to view Laurie again.

"What happened to your Daddy, Laurie?"

Laurie dragged her mind back to reality, and her chest shook before she could answer.

"He's in heaven too." The blonde's throat closed in slightly, and Laurie angled her head into the darkness to block a tear that had sizzled down her cheek.

"And is he happy?"

"I like to think so," replied Laurie, as her gaze fixed itself upon the silhouette of an opposite bed. "When my Dad went to heaven, I learned something from it."

"And what was that?" Asked Haley with genuine interest, as she flicked another sandy lock from her face.

"I learned that I'll never let it happen again," Laurie whispered in response, not realizing that she had said it out-loud. "I learned that I'll never let anyone die like my Dad did. I learned that I'll do everything in my power, to never let it happen again."

Haley shuffled her legs, and Laurie wondered whether she should have said her thoughts aloud.

"But sometimes it's too late to go back, Haley. Sometimes you wish you could go back and change it all. But often, all you can do is pull yourself together and prevent a similar situation from happening again."

Haley was unsure of what Laurie meant, but she cuddled into Laurie's side, and gently closed her eyes.

"Thanks Laurie."

The blonde melted into the wall behind her, and smiled down at the young girl.

"I'm always here for you."

Without another word, the girls sat together in silence, and neither said a single thing to the other. Silence was enough, and they both cherished it in that moment.

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Thank you all for the kind words and encouragement!


	7. Nevermore

Here's Chapter 7! :-). So like chapters 4 and 5, the next three chapters were once one long chapter consisting of 15,500 words! (Yes, my fingers are numb.) To break it down, I decided to cut it into three different chapters. So chapters 7, 8, and 9 will follow the same event. :-)

This chapter features the poem "The Raven," by Edgar Allen Poe. I've always loved his work, so I thought I'd include it.

All italics in this chapter represent emphasis or words to the poem.

A quick thank you to everyone who's reading this story and enjoying it as much as I am writing it. I'll have Chapters 8 and 9 up after I go to sleep (It's 7:30am LOL)

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"Something's wrong, Emma. I'm telling you, Josh hasn't been to class in days. I knew he was angry, but I haven't seen him around the campus or anything. It doesn't make sense," vented Warren, as Emma yawned from her armchair. "Can we send out a search party?"

"I don't _do_ that. I don't chase after runaways," Emma groaned, as she tilted her head back and blocked her face with her chin. "Have you searched for him yourself? Have you even checked his room? That's the logical – and obvious – place to check."

Warren flicked through his mind, like a clerk to his office files, and realized that he hadn't even gone to the mutant's dorms to check up on him. "Well I guess I haven't done that yet."

"Then why are you venting to me, when you could easily get the confirmation you're looking for? Save me the hassle Warren, I've got a school to run."

"First I thought it was Josh just not wanting to come to my class. I expected that, but it's been three days now and he hasn't shown up," Warren said with a sigh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and resting himself atop the corner of Emma's desk, much to her chagrin. "He's nowhere to be seen."

"I'll repeat myself," Emma sighed. "Why haven't you checked his room? It's no use moaning to me while you haven't. If he's not there, and you've searched every other possible place, then come back to me. You're his counselor, remember? You're meant to be on top of these things and saving me the bother."

"I haven't checked his room.." Warren sighed, and drooped his posture as his pupils gazed from the corners of his eyes, "because I don't want to invade his space. That's the only part of the school that's his, and I don't want him to feel any more invaded and claustrophobic than he already does."

"Don't be _ridiculous_," Emma scoffed, grunting her exasperation as she thumped her feet onto the desk. "Check his damn room, Warren. I pay you to be a teacher, not a shrink."

"But I'm his counsel-"

"_Go_. I'm not going to debate this with you. I've got piles of messages to return, and I'm already late for my acupuncture treatment. Check his room, and if he's _not _there.." Emma fell silent, as she cursed the fact she made it sound as if she was willing to take an action in light of the boy's disappearance.

"If he's not _there_..?" Warren drawled, as he waited for Emma to continue.

"If he's not there, _you_ can conduct a search since he's your responsibility. But if he's gone, he's gone and I don't want the other students leaving the campus to search for him. I don't need anymore stress on me if something happens to one of them."

Warren remained silent, and Emma grunted. "Are you _listening_, Warren?"

The teacher jumped from the corner with a thwarted gasp, and quickly turned to face Emma.  
"Search. On my own. No casualties. Got it." He forced his usual smile, but Emma remained undeterred, and grunted a second time – indicating that it was his time to leave.

Taking the cue, Warren departed and left Emma to her messages. As he walked down the halls, and exchanged pleasantries with passersby, he couldn't help but stick to his word and not invade Joshua's space. If the mutant didn't show up soon, then perhaps he would reconsider, but in the meantime, Warren concluded that he will remain vigilant for the mutant, but will ultimately not jump to conclusions.

Yet.

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Poetry, media, grammar, passages, creative writing – Warren could've sung the entire course backwards by the time the day had ended. Sometimes we wondered how students didn't all get _As_ on the basis of his repetition; he must've said the same things over and over.

With a sigh, the teacher plopped into his seat as a new class came flooding into his room and placed themselves in their respective seats. After realizing that this was the class Joshua was supposed to be in, Warren's eyes scanned the mob of students until he was met with disappointment. Josh _still_ wasn't coming to class; Where _was_ he? Warren's conversation with Emma bled into his mind, and he shook his head to omit it. The students began to look at each other with confusion as they anticipated Warren's direction, but too lost in thought was he to even realize how stagnant he was acting.

When a throat was cleared, the teacher jumped from his seat, and gazed over the pupils with more awareness.

"Oops, sorry! Must've drifted away there. How are you all doing?" he asked, with forced enthusiasm.

He was met with a sluggish and drawled "_Fine_," before he continued. "Open your books to page 104, pleeease."

They students acted duly and Warren took a breath to hide his boredom with the subject that he was supposed to exert undying passion for.

"The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe. You've all heard of it, right?"

"I have!" cheered Andrea Marguiles from the back, before the glares of the other students caused her to sink back further into her seat, with red cheeks.

"Anyone else?" asked Mr. Worthington.

An uncomfortable shift engendered amongst the students and their eyes fell upon an auburn haired student near the back, who rose from his seat.

"Jay? You're familiar with this poem?"

"_Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.."_ recited Jay without a further prompt.

Warren's brow shot upwards and his eyebrows arched as the student recited the first two lines of the poem. "You know it off by heart?" asked the teacher, making no efforts to hide the fact he was impressed.

A somber Jay continued on, and Warren felt a minor shiver crawl up his back as it dawned over him that the student was taking the poem far more seriously than he originally thought. "_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping - rapping at my chamber door."_

"You don't need to go on, Jay. Thank you for your contribution, and I have to say I'm impressed."

The dark expression that had befallen Jay gently lifted itself, and he cleared his throat as the tightness around his eyes was replaced by a look of relief.

"So as Jay already read-out, the poem is about a man who's visited by an omen, represented by a raven. It's a dark poem, and to be honest, it gives me the creeps. But it's on the course, so let's fly through it. Who wants to read?"

"I will!" Andrea cheered again, met by sighs of thanksgiving from the other students.

The girl took a breath and smiled before reading.

_""'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- Only this and nothing more."_

Warren giggled to himself at the words that Andrea read aloud: '_tapping at my chamber door'_ was a sentence he could relate to. He usually had a headache that _tapped_ at his head, or a student or teacher _tapping_ at the entrance to his classroom before entering; _tapping_ was a sound Warren knew oh-too-well.

But moments later, he found that he was no longer giggling at the words of the poem, but actually lost in the images that the poem painted in his mind. He pictured an ominous wet feathered crow, pecking on the pane of the dusty window with its crooked beak. He imagined the fear that the man in the poem felt, as the harbinger warned him of the demise of someone close - someone _very_ close.

Warren's eyes wandered to the empty seat beside Jubilation, and suddenly Josh glided into his mind. He couldn't help but feel as if he was the raven to Josh – the person who'd be knocking on his door and giving the student feelings of dread and fear.

Warren did have wings after all, and he chuckled silently as he pictured himself dressed up as a raven and cawing outside Josh's room; that would certainly frighten the student beyond measures.

But Warren felt a conflict inside: On one hand, he feared that Josh's perception of him would be similar to the raven delivering news of horror and chaos, during a time of great distress. On the other hand, he giggled at the thought of himself scaring the student by taking his fears literally. The two sides to Warren warred, but he soon shrugged off his concerns and dabbled solely in the amusing side.

"_Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."_

As Warren pondered the thought of what he'd look like if his feathers were black, he stopped himself on his mental trail of vanity and pulled his consciousness – although kicking and screaming – back to the classroom.

His eyes drifted to Jay, who seemed to be in a world of his own also, but one that did not mirror the mostly-positive and vain one that was Warren's. The teacher wondered why Jay took the poem so seriously, and eyed the student with scrutiny and the teenager's eyes flicked around the panorama outside.

"_Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore—"_

Warren noticed the dark expression draw itself upon Jay's face again, and the mutant's eyes angrily traced the swaying trees and rustling hedges outside; his fingers trembled into his palms and the teacher saw his jaw chatter slightly.

"_And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" – Merely this and nothing more."_

The muscles in Jay's jaw popped out a little more, and Warren battled to keep his concern reined. The student bit on his bottom lip, and his lower eyelids rose slightly and invaded the part of his eyes that only a blink should cover. A shaky breath was released and Warren could see that Jay was in distress – distress that was building up as the reading of the poem went on.

Warren watched.

'_..all my soul within me burning.." _

Jay's breathing became deep and heavy, and Warren's brows knitted together and he pushed himself from the corner of his desk.

"_In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore__;"_

Jay's knuckles bleached themselves of blood, and Warren could see that the student was trembling in his seat. His eyes no longer searched for trivialities outside, and simply gazed upwards at the sky, and Warren thought he could see a watery, teary layer form at the teenager's eyes.

"_Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before – On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said "Nevermore."_

The last word crumbled a part of Jay's decorum and the student tilted his face away from the class and faced the window completely.

"_But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!"_

Then Warren was given an insight into Jay's fears; he watched the winged mutant's lips, as they silently mouthed a first name that didn't register with Warren: _Julia._

"_Respite – respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore.""_

And there it was again; Jay mouthed the name over and over – a mantra of self reconstruction - and Warren's attention remained fixed – with concern and _interest_ – on the boy, as Jay's eyes resembled the puddles of an April shower reflecting the ultra violet consolations of the sun.

"_On this home by Horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore – Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore.""_

And Jay crumbled again; his legs wobbled and his hands trembled. Anguish screamed from his body-language, and Warren could watch nevermore. He turned to signal a halt in the reading, but was too late as Andrea had already continued on.

"_Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore – Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven "Nevermore.""_

Lenore.

Julia.

Jay stood to his feet.

"_And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, and the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted – nevermore."_

Andrea tilted her head up, proud of her fluent reading, while Jay marched toward the egress, and Warren followed from behind. The faces of the other students exerted confusion and Jay made no efforts to hide his emotions as they watched with bewilderment.

"Jay, wait," called Warren, in pursuit of his student.

The auburn haired teenager reached for the handle, and as he prepared to twist the knob, the door was suddenly swung open from the other side and its dark oaky exterior narrowly missed Jay's face.

Scott Summers came marching into the classroom without invitation and he peered over the class of students before speaking.

"I'm looking for Josh Foley. Anybody seen a Josh Foley?"

As the speed of the events twisted Warren's mind, he couldn't contain his initial reaction and he burst out at the intrusion.

"Mr. Summers, a knock would be appreciated!" Warren reprimanded, his eyes fuming.

Scott turned around and faced his fellow staff member, with an expression that matched Warren's.

"I said I'm looking for Josh Foley. _Where_ is Josh Foley?" he growled back, his deeper voice out-growling Worthington's.

"How is it of your concern?"

"He is a student in my class and he is yet to turn up this _year_. I was told he also attends this class. I want to speak with him!"

Warren's wits came about him and he glanced at the faces of the student's behind.

"Outside Scott. Now."

Warren briefly nodded to Jay, who was still shaking from earlier, and he stepped outside with Scott close behind. The door was shut, and Warren's eyes scrutinized Scott's to a degree that neither man knew possible.

"You do not barge into my class and demand to see a student. That is _completely_unprofessional and I won't see you get away with it," chided Warren, his eyes staying on Mr. Summers.

Scott scoffed. "It's what you get for embarrassing me in front of the students. Who do you think you are? You think because you funded this school that you're above everyone else?"

"I've _never_ said that," Warren growled, holding back the urge to reach for Scott's throat. "And without my _funds_, you'd be out of a job."

"I should remind you," Scott huffed with an unwelcoming grit in his voice, "that there are only _two_ people protected under Chares Xavier's will. That's Emma Frost, and myself. Everyone else is subject to getting the sack – funds or no funds."

Warren laughed. "You don't have the authority to fire me, Scott. That would have to be from Emma, and if you didn't know, we grew up together. She'd never see me leave."

"You may think you're comfy and cozy in your little job," threatened an indignant Scott, "but Emma won't be principal for much longer. Some of us aren't happy with her administrative methods."

Although taken back, Warren made no efforts to show it as such. "If anyone else," he stopped, looked around, and lowered his voice, "_if anyone else _has a problem with how Emma runs things, then I suggest they see her about it."

An ominous smile drew itself on Scott's face and the teacher shoved Warren's shoulder before departing in time for the ringing of the bell. The student's flooded out of the classroom and each one took a second to glance at Warren and assess what had happened between him and Scott.

"Shit went dooown," Mark Sheppard whispered, as he and the rest of the students turned the corner.

When the halls were empty and the new classes had begun, Warren remained in the same spot where he had argued with Scott, and the mutant remained in a trance as his thoughts spun in his mind.

"What the _hell_ just happened?" he asked himself, as Scott and Jay's respective outbursts lingered in his mind. "What is going _on_ in this school?"

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In an uplifted mood, and with a new proactive perspective, Laurie marched through the halls with zeal and content. Her experience at the shelter had lifted her spirits, and after giving Haley the candy-stick and seeing her eyes light up, Laurie cinched that she needed to pick herself up and immerse herself back in studies; crying was doing nothing to help her, and after seeing how _little_ the children had, she realized how _much_ she had.

It had been three days since her visit to the shelter, and she had returned on another occasion, with blankets, food and water as promised.

She smiled and waved at almost everyone in the corridors and was met mostly with the same back. The students' moods had become livelier as they settled back into school, and they moved through the halls with fixed posture and driven determination to do well in school. Laurie approached the exit to the portico and as she pushed the doors open, she was halted by a voice from behind.

"Laurie, wait," panted a drained voice from the halls. Laurie turned around and was met by Paras Gavaskar, the violet skinned student in Josh's English class. "You skip too fast," he added with a gasp, as he rested his arms on his knees. "I've been running after you for ten minutes straight."

Laurie smiled. "Oh, what's up?"

"Beast asked me to find you, he said he needed your assistance in the Danger Room."

"Did he mention anything else?" Laurie asked, uncertain to why would need her for something so trivial. "Is there any injury in the Danger Room?"

Paras tilted his head, resembling a parrot of which didn't understand the question asked to it. "No, not that he mentioned. He seemed mostly relaxed, why do you ask?"

Laurie shrugged and she wondered why she'd be needed in the Danger Room. "Hmph. Well I guess he's got his reasons. I'll check in with him, thanks Paras. And I'm sorry for causing you to be out of breath! I'll make it up to you some time."

Paras chuckled and placed a hand on Laurie's shoulder. "Don't apologize yet _Jaan_, I'm not done with you. Beast told me to go to the Danger Room after I found you."

Laurie laughed. "_What_ is he up to? Sending random students to the DR like this – he's up to something."

Paras threw his arms up dismissively, and when they came down, Laurie linked them before the two ambled down the halls and towards the Danger Room. "So where's Victor?" Laurie asked with a grin and a poke into Paras's stomach. The mutant grinned, and had he not been purple, his cheeks would have rouged.

"I'm afraid I do not know, _Jaan_. Any ideas?"

"The _Danger Room_, maybe?" Laurie shot back.

"_That_ would be a coincidence, nothing more," Paras disavowed, before shuffling his feet.

"I'll hold you to that one. You two are inseparable."

"We are certainly not!" Paras exclaimed with a giggle, the redness in his cheeks banging on the walls of the purple. "I am not with him now, am I?"

"Not for long," Laurie quipped, with another poke into the teenager's stomach. "Not that I mind, I find you too unbearably cute, actually."

Paras spat out his laughter, and turned to face Laurie with a glimmer in his eye. "If Victor heard you say that, it would be the end of the world."

"If a tree falls in a forest and nobody hears it, then did it really happen?" Laurie quipped again, with a wink that caused Paras to chuckle.

"Point taken _Jaan_. Well said."

The two arrived at the Danger Room and after scanning their hands, the shiny doors slid open with a metallic gasp, and the two entered the room.

Inside, was a sports-hall sized room, with no particular features of interest. The walls were gridded with lines that had never made any sense to Laurie, and they intersected each other at perfectly aligned points, giving the room a wallpaper of grey squares. Laurie felt as if she was surrounded by four chessboards.

Jutting out from where the wall met the ceiling, was an enclosed balcony-like room that was protected by a long pane of glass that stretched across its entire face.

Behind the glass was , who waved to the two teenagers and beckoned them up. Paras and Laurie opened a door that camouflaged with the wall and ascended the spiraled staircase until they were at the other side of the glass also.

Inside the room, was a long control panel that matched the length of the window; it occasionally flashed and beeped and Beast pressed on different buttons, and pulled levers with red circular tops.

Opposite McCoy was a counter that held a pot of brewing coffee and a potted flower. Further down the room, surrounding a low table, Laurie could see the faces of Mark Sheppard, Ben Hammil, Megan Gwynn, Noriko Ashida and of course, Victor Borkowski. The group waved to her and Paras, and the duo walked up to their friends and exchanged pleasantries.

"Finally you guys are here!" cheered Mark, with a devious grin on his face. "Victor's been scowling the entire time without his precious Paras."

The mutant leaped to his feet and shook a fist at the dark haired teenager. "I have not!" he clarified, "I've been doing nothing like that!"

"So all that pouting was done in vain then?" Mark quipped back.

"Pout- I wasn't pouting! I was just resting my face."

Mark chuckled with a sarcastic hum to his voice. "Best excuse yet Vicky, best excuse yet."

"My _name_ is Victor!"

"Alright," Ben interjected with a laugh. "S'enough from th'children for today. We all in agreement?"

"Agreed. I was about to shut you both up myself. I promise, that's not a good thing," Noriko said with a grunt that didn't truly reflect her amusement.

"Aw, I was enjoying that. The banter, I mean, not Nori's threats. Not that I mind Nori's threats or anything, I'm just partial to a good banter session. Well, except, I don't like being part of them, but I do like watching because –"

"Would someone drop a pill into my coffee, _please_, or make her shut up?" Noriko sighed.

Laurie watched her friend's interact, and remained quiet as she giggled at the remarks they made towards each other. She loved how easily Mark could wind up Victor, and how Noriko had such little patience for Megan, or anybody for that matter. She admired Ben as he kept the conversation from reaching any extremes, and she giggled as she caught Paras taking a few seconds to marvel over Victor.

Laurie felt she was in the middle of her family, and felt a warm smoke crisp her insides as she proudly watched the interactions between her friends. Each chair bolstered someone she cared for dearly, and Laurie knew that she'd do anything for any of them. But, there was one empty chair - the pariah that buttressed nothing at all, and Laurie instantly sensed a hole in the vision of perfection before her. Someone was missing, someone that Laurie allowed to slip momentarily from her mind.

Joshua Foley.

She remembered. She needed to find him and give him a cause to stay, as per the promise she made herself after her father's death. She wasn't going to lose someone – or anyone – again, and Laurie sighed as her gaze wandered solemnly upon the empty chair before her trail of thought was whisked away by an intruding voice.

"Why are you here Laurie? I thought you don't use your powers offensively?" asked Mark. The blonde's eyes flickered for a moment as her mind processed the question and she smiled blankly as she fabricated a reply.

"I don't know," she blurted, proud that she was able to answer accordingly and truthfully despite her mental vacancy. "Paras just came running after me and told me to come here."

"Wait, wait," Mark gasped, with a smile that didn't obscure the boy's plan to make a witty remark, and his eyes quickly glanced at Paras before flicking towards Laurie again. "Paras came _running_ towards you? _Someone_ was eager to get to the Danger Room. Jeez Vicky, you have him whipped."

Instantly, Victor leapt to his feet simultaneous to an explosion of laughter from Paras. "I do _not_ have him whipped, Mark! Just say it again – say it!"

"Whi-pped," Mark reiterated with a sneaky grin before the table trembled as Victor lunged at him. Paras had, meanwhile, fallen to the floor laughing and Laurie too did her best to hide her snorts. Noriko rolled her eyes.

"Come on girls," said Noriko, as Ben restrained Victor, and Mark relaxed his head on his palms. "Let's stop the '_first one to piss of Victor'_game and ask Beast why we're here."

"Agreed!" Laurie said, reining her reminiscent giggles.

The commotion suddenly settled as approached the table and leaned his arms on its hard wooden surface. He peered over his glasses, and his stern look froze the students in their pursuit to calm Victor down.

"_My my_, such a racket," he said with a smile that melted the stagnant students. "When my mind was about me again, I thought I was in the middle of a zoo! Is everything alright?" His attention moved to Victor, who huffed in his seat.

"Picture perfect," said Mark with a grin that almost undid Victor again; Ben patted the teen's arm and he deflated into his seat.

"Good. I suppose you're all wondering why you're here," remarked Beast, intertwining his blue fingers across the table. The students nodded and he continued. "I've added a new environment to the Danger Room and I'm hoping to see how it works out."

"Nice, we get to do some fighting?" interrupted Noriko with a burst of enthusiasm.

"Precisely, Ms. Ashida. Now I know it's been a while since any of you have used the DR so let me refresh your memories," Beast said.

"No refreshing needed here," said Noriko, crossing her arms.

Beast smiled and emitted a deep baritone chuckle.  
"All of us don't have your memory or enthusiasm, Ms. Ashida, so I will ask you to appease me."

Nori nodded, and Beast went on.

"I'm sure you all know that the Danger Room isn't a play room. _I know, I know_, Noriko to you it is, but for the rest of us, it's a serious and vital tool to test our powers, strength and durability." He smiled with assurance at Megan, who seemed to shift uncomfortably. "It's not dangerous, despite the name, but it _does_ mimic real life situations that you could be in, as mutants. Do I need to explain the mechanics?"

As Noriko and Mark were about to reply in the negative, Victor gathered Mark's readiness and interrupted the duo, grasping his moment of revenge. "Yes, Mr. McCoy, I would _greatly_ appreciate an explanation of the mechanics," he said with a smirk towards Mark, who frowned under the eyes of the _'Touché'_ that lingered above them.

Beast smiled and spoke duly. "Once activated, the Danger Room creates an artificial environment which hosts a series of characters, events, objects, dangers and places. You will be given an objective and when you complete it, the simulation will end."

"And what about feeling pain?" asked Victor with another stabbing grin at the eager Mark, knowing that a question like this was on par with asking a history teacher _how many days it took to build Rome._

Beast sank into his seat and took a deep breath that crushed Noriko's readiness.

"Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Borkowski," he said. "In the DR you can feel the pain of an injury despite the fact it doesn't exist in real life. If you're hurt in the Danger Room, you must remember that the pain is confined to the simulation and will not actually harm you. Although, it is unpleasant regardless."

"And what if you die in the DR?" Victor asked again, as Noriko and Mark were ready to burst in their seats.

"Great question!" Beast blurted. "This is what makes the Danger Room such an exciting innovation. If you die during the simulation, you will be teleported back here. Deaths in the Danger Room occur in the exact manner as real life and they can be fast or even slow. The purpose of this is to teach you the outcome of a series of events, and if they were to happen in real life, you'd have an idea of how to tackle them. Think of these simulations as a practice for an emergency, like a fire drill, if you would." The scientist took a breath and smiled as he looked across at the faces before him. "Any other questions?"

_"No!" _Mark and Noriko shouted in unison.

"Well then, let us prepare."

Noriko and Mark burst from their seats and disappeared into the changing rooms at the end of the room, with Megan, Ben, Paras and Victor in pursuit. Laurie, however, remained behind and waited for the others to depart before she addressed Beast.

"Doctor, you know I don't fight in the DR. My powers are next to useless offensively," whispered Laurie to her mentor.

"As much as I disagree," Beast sighed, "I wasn't expecting you to take part in the simulation today. I wish for you to stay here and observe your comrades. I will be taking notes on the development of their skills, and I would appreciate your eyes." He stopped before adding an amendment to his words. "In discretion, of course. I won't disclose to them that you helped me assess."

Laurie smiled as he quelled her almost-interjection. "Thanks Hank. I'd prefer to stay here with you."

Beast smiled and turned back to the control panel. "I know you do. Now why don't you take the notepad on the desk and write down what you see when your friends begin the simulation?"

"Consider it done," she replied with a smile, as her friends bled into grey room on the other side of the window.

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Hope you all embrace Victor as a character in the story! Believe it or not, he was added as a last minute edit to the outline and replaced the character "Rain boy," that I had included. You might remember the latter from Gambit's training squad during Academy X. If you don't remember, I don't blame you; If you do remember, then consider yourself knighted in my books ;).


	8. Fire away, Fire away

****Chapter 8. Note from last chapter: this is a continuation from Chapter 7, as Chapters 7 8 & 9 were once one chapter.

A friend recommended that I include a little action, so here you go, y'all asked for it ;).

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"The five of you will face a given number of enemies. You are to fight until either all of you, or all of them have been defeated, and do your best to look out for each other," said Beast through the microphone with an enthusiastic tone to his voice. "In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,"

Laurie watched from above as the grey grids before her began to bleed with color, and pixels from the walls conglomerated and formed tangible objects. The scope of the ceiling transmuted into a reddened sky, with ominous clouds swirling around the blood-shot sun.

Laurie blinked and almost missed the finishing touches that the DR added to the scene. Reflecting in her eyes was a sprawling car park, with various colored vehicles left behind and parked outside the given lines. Many of them emitted a red blinking flash from inside and Laurie gulped as she realized that they were alarmed.

There was a rouge tint to the air, with orange explosions of clouds in the distance. Laurie's height from the observation deck allowed her to see a muddy bank on either side of the car park and Laurie had a feeling of dread as she realized how huge the room had made itself become. She could see her friends, but they could not see her and the window before her, and the entire deck that she sat inside, was camouflaged into the crimson sky.

Laurie then glanced down at her five friends: Noriko was at the head of the group, suspiciously eyeing each and every car that blocked her sight. Ben was behind her, with his arms spread out to block Megan from any harm; Laurie smiled at the sight. She then brought her attention to Victor, who was eyeballing the grounds around Paras and assessing his safety. And finally, all that was left of Mark was a scratched footstep upon the gravel where he once stood, and Laurie's gaze traveled across the panorama before she realized that he was nowhere to be seen. The others had only just noticed too, and their heads dashed from left to right as they sought him out.

"He left them?" Laurie muttered to herself. "Why would he do that?"

Ben momentarily called out to his friend, but was hushed by Noriko, whose attention was fixed towards the sporadic cars in the distance. Laurie watched as Noriko pressed forward without a word, followed by all but Ben, and Laurie cringed as she mentally screamed for him to follow her; Mark was nowhere to be seen – Laurie could see this – and she wished she could apprise Ben of the same information. Luckily, he appeared to huff, before shuffling after the group, who were unaware of what was to come.

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The crisped whispers in the distance and the repetitive tapping of what sounded like metal upon tin, was eminent, and Noriko's eyes scrutinized every gap and shadow that she could see. It was quiet. Too very quiet.

"Who's there?" she called out, waving to the others to come closer. "Come out now and I wont blow your brains out."

"You show 'em Nori!" Megan cheered before the recipient of her words shot her down with a shush.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Victor muttered huskily, making Paras uneasy. "My senses are jumping up and down."

"Why? What's going on?" Megan asked unsteadily, cowering closer to Ben. "What're you senses telling you?"

Victor's reptilian skin was on end, and the clumpy surface on his head sent tingling sensations to the tips of the horns on his shoulders. "Something's not right."

"Let's keep goin'," said Ben, advancing past Noriko. "If we stay'in one place, we could all be taken out at once."

"Onwards and upwards then," Megan cheered with false enthusiasm that failed to mask her fears. Noriko rolled her eyes as the girl passed her, and when a waft of perfume swept under her nose, the mutant grumbled until the flowery aroma was replaced by the preferable bitterness of petroleum.

"It's going to be a long day," she muttered to herself.

As they continued to wind through the serpentine path that the cars had created, each mutant remained vigilant for suspicious behavior around them. But there was nothing; the noises had seized to continue, and beyond the silence and the faint drip-drop of the rain droplets falling from the muddy pipes under the cars, nothing could be hard, and the students – Megan being the main culprit – shivered as the anticipation rotted their confidence.

"Why hasn't anything happened yet?" Victor asked, as his pupil darted to his left to make sure Paras was close.

"Dunno for certain," stated Noriko, her face enshrouding no hidden emotions. "Something's not right. Something should've happened by now."

"Well," said Megan, seeing an opening to be the _confident one_, "Why don't we take a break and think about it?" She leaned against the car behind her, and slapped her pale arm onto it.

As Ben and Noriko's eyes simultaneously spotted the red flashing light from inside the vehicle, both halted Megan's movements with a showing of the palms.

"Megan, Do. Not. Move," said Noriko definitively.

The winged student raised an eyebrow as she peered at the worrisome faces before her.

"Why, what's the big deal?" she asked with a smile.

"Do not make any sudden movements. Just step away from the car, _slowly_."

"Why?" Megan asked back before plopping herself up on the bonnet, causing Noriko and Ben to shriek.

"What's the problem?"

"The car is _alarmed_!" Noriko bellowed. "Get the _hell_ off of it!"

Megan's face blanched and she fumbled from the bonnet with clownish tumble and landed onto the gravel with a knock.

After she hit the floor, the red light inside the car began to spin like a light-house and a shrill scream of the alarm tainted the silence with its electronic cries.

"Megan, what the _fuck_?" Noriko bellowed, approaching the fallen student and pulling her to her feet, the wails of the alarm echoing through the empty car park. "What were you _thinking_?"

The girl's face dropped, and the alarm echoed inside her head. "I don't.. I didn't mean to.. It was an accident!"

"You realize you just put us all in danger, don't you? Why didn't you listen to me? I told you to back away _slowly_," Noriko snapped, as Ben came to separate the girls.

"I.. I'm sorry!" she shrieked back, placing her hands over her ears. "I didn't know they were alarmed."

"You never noticed the clear blinking light inside _every_ car? And here I was thinking Jubilation was the blind one."

"_Hey!"_ Ben interjected with sudden resentment towards Noriko's comment. "S'inappropriate t'say that, Noriko."

"Oh suck it up,"

"People," Paras interjected.

"No Noriko, Ah won't let'ya off th'hook with sayin' things about Jubilation like that. She's my friend."

"I don't care about you or your friends. I just want to win this game, but little Miss Piss has ruined that for all of us!"

"_Enough_, Noriko," Ben abhorred.

"_People_," said Paras again.

"Enough of what?" Noriko scoffed, "reality? How long are you going to stick up for the go-nowheres? Why don't we leave the pixie behind and go on without her. She'll make excellent bait for whatever's out there."

"Noriko, Ahm serious. If y'wanna leave, be my guest. But leave without th'pathetic comments, please."

"_People!"_ Paras interjected again.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Noriko growled, "Why don't we ask the others who they want to lead? The loser leaves the group and goes on their own, like Mark. Deal?"

"Deal."

"_Hey Bhagwan! _Listen to me! There are _people_, over there!" Paras shouted, pointing to the left wing of the carpark and towards the muddy bank.

Nori and Ben averted their gazes to his direction, and were taken back by the sight before them. Standing on top of nine cars in the distance, were nine persons. Each one wearing a thick black robe, with a slick pointed hood that masked their identities. Their sleeves drooped over their hands and the robes swayed over their feet; their humanity was completely obnubilated by the dark overalls that covered them and they faced the direction of the mutants, with their heads tilted towards the bonnets beneath them.

"What are they?" Victor asked uneasily, as he curled his hands in preparation to fight.

"Our victims," Noriko replied with fresh zeal. "They look like old men. I can take them all."

"Unwise," Paras whispered, unaware that his words were audible.

"And why's that?"

He cursed himself before tilting his stern eyes at Noriko. "Why would we be sent into the Danger Room to fight nine defenseless old men? Something is amiss here."

Noriko conceded to his words before turning back to the exiled Megan. "Hey, do you want to redeem yourself?"

"There's nothin' to redeem," Ben interjected.

"Just listen. Those guys are pretty far away. Miss piss,"

"Megan," Ben interrupted again,

"_Megan_, is the only one here with wings. She could fly over them and see what kind of threat they are."

"Absolutely not!" Ben flared. "S'a glorified way of making her bait. We're not reckless – we do not risk team-mates' lives for th'sake of curiosity."

"Ugh, you are painful," she grunted, as she aimed a fist at one of the men.

"What're you doing?" Victor asked, as he watched her aim her fist acutely until one of the cloaked men was positioned perfectly in the loop of her knuckle.

"I'm going to shoot one of them and see what happens."

"They haven't done 'nything wrong, Noriko! How do y'know they're bad?"

Without justifying his question with a response, Noriko took a deep breath as her body magnetized the electro-particles in the air. She could feel a surge of energy explode inside of her as her body converted it into raw electricity.

She held her breath before she let out a gasp, and suddenly, a ball of curly, sizzling blue electricity swirled and hummed through the air. It gathered speed and power, as it zinged through the distance between the students and the unknown men. But with a sudden halt, the curdling mass froze in front of the face of its target and floated in line with the malicious tip of his pointed hood.

"Wh.. why hasn't it hit him?" Megan asked with a stutter, fear creeping into the tissues of her throat.

Nori watched, wide-eyed as the offspring of her powers was halted on its path, and continued to float in front of her target's face.

"This is fucked up," she wheezed. "How did he..?"

"A telepath," Paras concluded, his eyes scrutinizing the cloaked figure. "He.. It.. is using its powers to hold back the electricity."

Ben stepped forward and turned to face his comrades. "We retreat. W'don't know what we're up against. Let's move back."

Ben was not about to allow one of his teammates to get hurt – simulation or no simulation, and he nodded to the group before each and every one of them agreed to push back while they assessed their enemies. They stepped away slowly, with their hands in the air as they extended the distance between themselves and the mysterious men.

But Ben's fears were met; the flickering ball of electricity was suddenly flung back towards the students, and with a gasp, each of them jumped out of the way.

"It's coming back towards us!" Noriko alerted with a shout, as she tossed herself from the path of her own doing.

"S'not coming fer us!" Ben roared as he watched the mass descend upon a vehicle surrounding the group. "He's gonna blow up the cars 'round us!"

With that, after a burst of mechanical laughter, the car exploded, shooting debris in all direction, and shattering the windows of the cars nearby. Black smoke emitted from the impact site and the hinges of the targeted car groaned with agony as the doors crumbled from their grasp.

Ben was catapulted from where he stood, and landed into the jagged gravel beneath. With a gasp, he landed to the floor and his vision was knocked from his eyes.

Noriko had successfully dived out of harm's away, and pulled herself behind a different vehicle where she remained out of the sight of the cloaked men. Megan had pierced the crimson sky with her transparent wings, as she hovered above the explosion in time to save herself from the wrath of its power.

Paras and Victor had been standing to the right of the group and were both leaning close to the car that had been struck by Noriko's bolt. As Noriko, Megan and Ben found themselves under the cape of relative safety, the boys were completely immersed in flames before one of them was launched away from the impact.

Ben stood to his feet with a moan; the Danger Room's pain felt so real and he took a moment to remind himself that it was just a simulation. His sight bled into his pupils and the hazy panorama before him began to conform and resemble a visible and familiar sight.

"Everyone okay?" he shouted out, before glancing in the direction of the cloaked men, who had disappeared. "Say something if you're still here!"

"Of _all_ the voices to hear," Noriko coughed, climbing out from behind a car. "It had to be yours."

Ben ignored her. "'nyone else survive?" His face reflected the drop of hope in his stomach and he lowered his voice before addressing himself: "Please don't make'it just th'two've us."

Reflecting the blood-red burst of colors from the sky, Megan descended upon him like a sigh of relief and she landed neatly before his feet. "I'm alive! Well, obviously. I wouldn't be dead, but I mean, I'm alive in the game. So, I'm alive! Oh wait, I already said tha – "

"Please Victor or Paras, would one of you just make yourself known and save me from these two?" Noriko cried out in desperation, as she almost wished that the explosion had knocked her out.

Before Ben could dismiss her complaints, he was interrupted by a faint panting that emitted a few meters from where he stood.

"Paras? Victor?"

He and Megan followed the sounds, and as they did so, they became louder and more defined.

"Paras? Victor? Is that one of you?"

The gasps escorted them to a dent in the bonnet of a car, and below it, was a crisped, and injured familiar face. Both mutants fell to their knees and they instantly feared for the boy's welfare and pain levels.

"Victor!" Megan shrieked, as Ben attempted to raise him to his feet. "They got Paras," replied the reptilian, as he pressed his weight onto Ben. "Those freaks fired that thing right at him." He sighed, coughed, and then wiped a fleck of a pebble that had embedded itself into his lip. "He never had a chance. This is so unfair," he groaned again, tilting his face up as he viewed his friends. "But at least he's out of this creepy place though, right?"

Megan smiled, and crept under her classmate's other side. "That's true. I'm jealous of him."

"Feels real dun'it?" Ben interjected, as Victor gasped in pain.

"Too real," he croaked back.

Hobbling and coughing, the trio approached Noriko, who was still sluggishly lying on the ground, awaiting their arrival.

When she saw Victor, she jumped to her feet and rushed over to him.

"Thank God you're still here. I thought I'd be stuck here with these two," she commented, pointing to Ben and Megan, "but at least I have someone else. Where's Paras?"

"Out," coughed Victor, his head slung forward as his neck throbbed in pain. "Didn't get away in time."

Noriko cursed before replacing Megan as a pillar beneath the boy. The pixie flew into the air and observed the view below her: she couldn't see any visible dangers – save the alarmed cars – and beyond the black smoke from the destroyed vehicle below, nothing seemed out of order, and the nine mysterious men had completely vanished.

"Nothing's out of the ordinary," she stated, as she lowered herself to the floor. "Everything looks like it did when we started – quiet and ordinary. Too ordinary… not that that's a bad thing!"

"Don't start," Noriko reprimanded before receiving a warning from Ben. "We need to get Victor out of danger."

The four mutants agreed and pressed onwards through the forgotten paths carved out by the cars, and soon enough, they stumbled upon an opening, free of cluttered vehicles. Albeit, they were still surrounded by cars, but at least they could stretch out their arms without smacking a car's door, or a wind-shield.

"Put'im dain here," Ben advised, as he and Noriko coordinated themselves as they lowered Victor to the ground. "Meg, stay in th'air and keep watch," he added, before kneeling over Victor and altruistically donating a myriad of his attention to him. The boy's green scales had been creamed of their rich Pomona green blush, and made the student's weakness eminent. The Danger Room had simulated a gash across Victor's stomach, as well as a shattered leg, cracked ulna, and countless burn marks that roasted the green surface of his skin, and left gurgling spits of moist scars scattered upon the scaly terrain. It felt so real to him, and despite Ben's reassurance that this was part of the Danger Room's abilities, Victor couldn't help but panic at how _real_ it all felt.

"I've got something to tell you," Victor said with a wheeze, as his head wobbled upon the gravel beneath it. Ben leaned over and raised a brow.

"Hit me, mate. Everythaing all right?"

"This.." he stopped briefly and grunted through the pain in his limbs. "This is my first time in the Danger Room."

Noriko and Ben froze solid, as his words pierced them like an unwelcome dagger. "Yer jokin' mate, right?"

"No. I'm the youngest senior in the school. I never had a chance to go in before – this is my first time."

"Why would Beast send a newbie into an advanced level in the Danger Room?" Noriko questioned, still horrified that a she was training in the presence of a newcomer.

"Yer guess is as good'as mine," Ben replied. "Look Victor, we've been'ere before. We know what it's laik to be injured in the DR, that's why we're not panickin'. But this is yer first time, mate. Y'can't be expected to go through all of this on day one. We've been slowlay weaned onto this."

"I get it," Victor coughed, "really, I do. But I discussed this with Beast before the simulation and I told him that I wanted to do this – I wanted to be on par with everyone else."

Ben sighed, but was careful not to damage the boy's confidence. "Vic, that's very brave of'ya. But with respect to Mr. McCoy, he's not th'one in here. He doesn't know what it's liek to faight in th'Danger Room. Believe me when Ah say that y'cannot jump straight into the deep end without testin' the shallow end first."

"I get it!" Victor reminded defensively. "I'm young, not deaf."

The firey student pulled back, and treaded lightly as Victor descended into disapproval.

"Sorry mate. Ah'm not tryin' to patronize'ya or anythin'."

"That's what they all say. The fact is, I'm fine." With his good arm, Victor pushed himself up to his feet, but after shrieking so loud that even Megan peered down to see what was going on, the reptilian mutant fell to the floor with a thud.

"Yer not fine, mate," Ben admonished. "Yer wounds are gonna slowly and painfully suck the life outta'ya, mate." Ben stopped and peered at Victor's injuries again, before he asked his next question as diplomatically as he could, careful not to make the boy feel lesser, but also stressing how he was too young and inexperienced to endure such pain that Ben himself and the others had been exposed to slowly, via countless hours in the Danger Room. "Ah could end it nai fer ya, mate. Give me th'word and Ah can send'ya right back to Beast, Laurie and Paras in th'observing deck. What d'ya say?"

"Are you suggesting that you kill me in here and knock me out of the simulation? Are you out of your mind?" Victor castigated with a knitted brow. "This is supposed to be treated like real life! Is that what you'd do if this was real? End me, even though I'm completely lucid? That's comforting to know, Ben, thanks!"

"He's got a point, you know" Noriko sighed, "This isn't real life, and having you here is holding us back. Sorry Victor but you're not experienced enough to be here."

"Wh- Are you two _crazy_?" Victor gasped in disbelief. "Are you seriously considering doing this?"

"I've moved out of the consideration zone," Nori replied, approaching Victor with a resigned expression on her face.

"Wait Nori, we only do it if he wants it. If he doesn't, then we regroup and count 'im in this. Ah'm not gonna act against his wishes," Ben said, abstaining from the argument.

"Then _I_ will,"

Victor growled and hobbled to his feet in spite of the pain and stood as firmly as he could before Noriko. "I am – _ugh_- not going to let you do this. I know what I'm capable of!"

"Why make it so difficult?" Noriko asked soliloquy-style. "You could just lie back and make this quick."

Victor crunched his fingers and tilted his posture in preparation. "I'm not letting you do this," he growled.

Ben stepped back and Noriko gathered her energy before discharging a beam of electricity that narrowly missed Victor. The reptile threw himself prostrate on the floor, and camouflaged entirely into the charcoal color of the gravel below.

"Come on Victor, why are you doing this?" Noriko asked.

"I told you I'm fine," he replied, although Noriko couldn't track where he was. "But you still want to finish me off. This has become a game to you, hasn't it? You just want to be the last one left!"

"Keep talking Borkowski, I'll find you."

"We'll – _guh_ – see about that."

Ben found it hard to remain on the fence, and watched as Noriko sought out their teammate. Was she using his _injuries_ – his _age_ – as a front to show off her powers by eliminating him? Ben shook.

"Come on Vicky, come out and fight like a real man!" she gibed, clenching her fists with impatience, as she circled the spacing they had found with anticipation.

"My name is _Victor_!" he growled from his hiding place.

"Vicky doesn't like his nick name? P_oo_r b_a_by. Quit acting like a sissy and come out and fight me like a real man." She spat on the floor and grinned, before an icy silence befell them. Noriko didn't dare speak again and even Megan from above could taste the bitterness in the air, and Ben flinched as he realized why the reptilian had refrained from speaking: _Nobody_ calls Victor Borkowski a woman.

"_What_ did you call me?" Victor asked finally, pressing Ben's impartiality over the edge.

"A sissy, a girl, _a woman_!" Noriko snapped back, frustrated that her opposition was not within her sight.

A bellowing howl was heard from behind, and Noriko's preparations were ripped from her mind as she was tackled from the back and knocked to the floor.

"You'll apologize if it's the last thing you do!" Victor growled, as he pinned Noriko to the floor and avoided her electrical swipes.

"I mean it Victor, you don't know who you're messing with!" Noriko roared back, as her limps were held in place by the svelte mutant above her.

She always hated reptiles.

"Take it back!" Victor demanded.

"Or what?" she screamed.

"That's it, enough from both've you!" Ben interjected, pulling Victor from Noriko and holding them arms-length apart as they swung their limbs at each other.

"Don't get involved Ben, I'm going to send this little brat back to the playpen where he belongs!" Nori hissed.

Victor stomped at her. "Take back what you said and I might leave you with one arm."

"A cheap threat from someone who can grow them back!"

"Now you're ridiculing my powers? Who gives you the right? You're just a self-obsessed _bitch_who wants nothing more than to show off your trivial powers to everyone else! You make me sick," Victor spat, with a note of resignation. "I'm getting away from you people – If Paras was here, he'd be fuming too."

"Victor, don't leave," Ben sighed, showcasing his guilt.

"Don't give me that. Don't pretend that you're guilty now! You started all of this!"

Before Ben could persist, the now-visible Victor scurried away into the array of vehicles in the peripheral of the circle, before Noriko climbed to her feet and dusted off her pants.

"Yer not happy until y'alienate everyone from th'group, are ya?" Ben rebuked, stomping his foot to the floor as Megan descended from the sky.

"I did us a favor!" Noriko replied with a languorous shrug. "_He_ was just holding us back. He's too young to be here, and we're better off without him anyway!"

Ben's frustration had filled him and he sighed as his thoughts twirled in his head. "Nori, we've been 'ere fer an hour 'nd we've alreaday lost half the team. Every departure can be linked back t'you, so If 'nything happens to Megan, Ah won't hesitate to _defend_'er."

"How does Paras getting caught in that explosion have anything to do with me? And Mark's little slip away at the beginning was nothing to do with me either! And Victor brought that on himself," She claimed, throwing her arms in the air.

"Y'insisted on attackin' that cloaked person 'nd ended up injuring Victor and knocking Paras completely out! And if Ah predict right, Ah'd say Mark knew ye'd be liek this, and s'why he left!"

"So you want me to apologize for being me?" Noriko hissed, belying nothing.

"Yes! S'exactly what Ah'm sayin'! S'the first taim Ah've ever been in th'DR with you and t'be honest Nori, t'will be the last."

"Whatever. You're a girl like Victor. I'm so out of here." The girl scoffed and turned her away but not before sticking two middle fingers up behind her back as she disappeared into a similar direction to Victor. Ben grunted, and Megan silently tiptoed behind the mutant and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

"She just takes these games seriously – don't take it to heart," Megan said, her voice acting as a balm to his anger. "She's an entirely different person outside of the DR. We're in _her_ comfort-zone right now. Believe me, I'm always paired with her for these kinds of things. I think it's because Beast usually assigns people alphabetically – so you know, _M_egan and _N_oriko come pretty close together."

Ben chuckled away the embers of anger that danced in his stomach and he turned to face his friend. "Yer stronger than ya look, Meg," he said with a smile. "Sometaimes Ah thaink yer stronger than I am."

Megan's cheeks blanched and she shoveled the gravel with her foot. "Oh quiet you!" she remarked, with a wry smile. "How could I compete against _the_ Benjamin Hammil?"

The crackling student laughed and rubbed the back of his match-shaped head. "Ah thaink ye'd give'me a run fer my money."

The two laughed together until silence befell them and they faced the inevitable task at hand: they still needed to defeat those nine mysterious opponents before they could finish the simulation and leave the Danger room. A part of Ben almost didn't want it to end, as he knew Victor, Beast and Nori would have it out with him over their respective reasons.

They disappeared into the field of vehicles and it suddenly hit Ben that the group, was entirely broken up.

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_Hey Bhagwan_ - Oh My God! (In this case: Oh my God, listen to me!)

_Jaan - _Darling, Babe.

Chapter 9 will be up tomorrow.


	9. Well, I Wasn't Expecting That

Aaand, Chapter 9. In this Chapter (and the last one, actually,) I've used some Hindi. I don't actually speak a word of it, so please excuse any mistakes. If there's anyone out there who wants to correct the one or two Hindi words/sentences in the Chapter, please don't hesitate to PM me. :-). I hope y'all enjoy this action-packed chapter! I've got educational commitments coming up from next week onwards so I won't be able to update _as_ frequently, but don't worry; I _will_ update, just maybe not 3 chapters in 3 days, y'know? ;). Thanks for the kind comments!

Note: Cursing and violence in this chapter.

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"Useless bastards wasting my time," Noriko gruffled to herself. "They won't survive two seconds without me. They need me. I'll prove to them that they do."

The girl meandered through the uneven cars, and stomped as she did so, taking the liberty to punch the occasional un-alarmed vehicle that she passed.

"Ben thinks he can lead. Pfft," she hissed again, spitting on the ground as she continued marching through the paths. The sky hadn't changed from its color, and the sun cried tears of crimson clouds as the indignant mutant marched beneath. She could smell the coppery essence of petroleum in the air, as well as waves of burning rubber and wet tarmac. Noriko's feet walloped into the floor as she stomped, and her knees raised with might as she slammed her feet down upon the tar with every step.

"First Mark, then Paras, Victor, Ben and Megan. They're all useless. We were supposed to be a team!" she muttered under her breath, advancing through the hazy paths. "I'm the only one talking any sense around here. Ben couldn't lead a toddler - he's useless. Useless. Utterly useless."

Noriko's rage was almost radiant from her body, and it intensified as the girl's heavy breathing welcomed in wafts of metallurgic air. Even her hair had been tousled by the greasy humidity, and Noriko indignantly swiped her fringe from her face at uneven intervals. The teenager's hair shone an aqua - almost zaffre - chroma, and was enshrouded by the amaranth haze that crept around her. But her hair wasn't always blue; the pigment was altered by her powers, which stored motes of electro-particles inside the pigmentation and permanently dyed her hair a thick and watery indigo. She abhorred it at first, but soon it became a part of her self-definition, and Noriko experienced a gradual shift in her opinion, until her disapproval had dissipated and was replaced by an unforeseen fondness.

But she was far from feeling any kind of fondness for anything in her current state. Her group had separated and she was alone – the only one, as far as she was concerned, ready to cut down the enemies, and prove to McCoy that she was still the most formidable mutant of the student-body. Everything was on her. So she felt.

As Noriko continued on, she began to verge to the left and found herself at the foot of the left bank, which crumbled its contents onto the boarder of the tarmac below. Peering over her shoulder, the mutant could see nothing but the car park that she had already trudged through, and the right bank directly opposite her. If she saw another car, or another bank, Noriko thought she'd go crazy as the monotonous atmosphere began to close in on her. She was unable to see what was over the bank in front of her, but Noriko decided to climb it and escape the eerie host of vehicles behind her.

Her confidence in her formidability was uplifted as she quickly reached the top before peering over the other side.

As her eyes spread across the new environment, Noriko's countenance dropped with dread as her clearance of the bank introduced her to the now un-concealed view of _another_ car park, and _another_ bank at the other side – a replica of the environment she was already trapped in. Her mind traced the view and Nori felt a pang of claustrophobia hit the back of her mind, and with a growl, she shook her fist in the air. "Thanks Beast! You really showed me! These never ending car parks aren't getting old at all."

The teenager cussed to herself. She wasn't going to get out until she had killed all of those mysterious old men, and for some reason, they were nowhere to be seen, and Noriko subdued the agitation that was fueled by her helplessness. Beating the simulation was out of her control and Noriko detested that; she hated that winning was something she couldn't have in the bag right _now_ and at the comfort of her own leisure. She hated not being in control.

The student turned around to scale back down the slope. Her brain automatically began thinking of tactics to find and eliminate her opponents, but when suddenly she felt a crack in her spine, she tumbled down the unfamiliar side of the slope with a roar.

Tumbling, turning and rolling, her eyes met the tarmac of the new car park as her temples walloped into the karst-like gravel beneath her. Momentarily winded, and deprived of her vision, Noriko took a moment to gather herself before she wobbled to her feet despite the muscular cries from her back.

"What the _fuck_?" she gnarled to herself, as she peered down and picked up a cracked, yet substantial log from her feet. "Someone threw thi — Who the _fuck_ threw this at me?"

She was met with no reply, and the impaired mutant stoically climbed back up the slope and peered over the original car park, seeking out the culprit.

"Victor, was this you?" she shouted, waving the log in front of her face. "Come out and fight me like a man!"

She expected to see her classmate expose himself and attack her with vengeance over her previous remarks, but her words were ripped from her lips as from behind a grouping of cars, rose six cloaked figures, each of them pointing at her with looped sleeves drooping below their whitened wrists and crooked, long fingernails. Noriko gulped; it was them. She wasn't at her strongest and a part of her begged to flee back down the slope. But Noriko remained obdurate, and failed to back-down.

Each figure raised a hand in unison, and from the floor beneath them, rose countless pieces of debris: tyres, pipes, handles, wheels, everything that had been disassembled from any broken down vehicle.

The electric mutant smiled – winning was finally within _her_ grasp again, and this was the moment she needed to win the game and remind everyone that she's a force to be reckoned with. Ben and Victor had treated her with such disrespect and this was exactly what she needed to teach them a lesson: She was Noriko Ashida, and nobody should _ever_ challenge her.

"You want a fight?" she shouted, charging herself in preparation. "Then I'll give you a fight."

In perfect sync, the pieces of debris were catapulted at Noriko and the girl flipped away, as they twirled in the air with a rubbery grumble.

With renewed zeal, the mutant shot a beam, and it burst through the air with a magnificent glow. The hooded men flicked their wrists, and the scattered pieces of catapulted debris suddenly crunched together, and formed one large rubbery mass of utter destruction. Her beam struck the ominous clutter-ball of debris, but died as the rubber of the tires absorbed its power.

"Shit."

Noriko dashed out of the way as the ball crashed into the soil of the bank and knocked her to her feet. The components burst from their unit upon impact, and jagged shards of metallic steel came storming upon Noriko, slicing her skin with an unruly lick of their blades over her arms, body and legs. Refusing to even groan, Noriko wobbled to her feet again, but as another parade of debris came swirling through the air in her direction, the mutant resigned herself to elimination.

She closed her eyes; no dash or leap would save her from the impeding pipes and tires that whistled and groaned through the air. And in her last moment, Noriko could only think of an alternative method to teach Ben and Victor a lesson for disrespecting her; they needed _her_ after all, and she couldn't let them know that she had fallen on her own, after walking away. With a deep breath, and the sour smell of the coppery pipes and marsh mellowed rubber within her olfactory distance, the girl felt a gush of wind dance past her face before an uneasy silence befell her ambience.

Was it over? Was she back in the observation deck? Why couldn't she hear McCoy, Laurie or Paras? With a reluctant opening of her eyes, her sight was met by the back of someone's head; she took a minute to see who it was, and upon a closer inspection, she realized who it was.

Mark Sheppard.

A flat, plasma-like force-field had sustained the impact of the blow and Mark's arms shuddered as he struggled to keep it alive. His ears were covered by his headphones, and Noriko shook away her disbelief.

"A sight for sore eyes," she commented, belying her wish to scream pleasantries at the boy.

"Can't hear you," he replied, tilting his head slightly to view her before turning his attention back to the enemies at hand. "They're distracted. Attack them."

Without a further prompt, Noriko dashed from behind the force-field and shot a generous beam of electricity towards the furthest right of the cloaked men. The figure was launched from the bonnet it stood on, and catapulted away from its comrades without as much as a grunt.

Noriko questioned the credibility of her vision as her target disappeared into a wisp of black smoke and was replaced entirely by the air around it.

The other four figures turned their attention to the girl, and Mark took his cue. The men launched more elevated pieces of debris and Noriko evaded each one with a skillful side-step and roll. As she danced from the path of each jagged chunk of metal, Noriko was snagged in the arm, and the mutant was reminded of the throbbing pain in her spine, as well as the glistening cuts over her body that leeched at her energy; she fell to her knees with a grunt, and was winded by a sudden chunk of metal that collided with her abdomen.

After a subtle click on his I-pod, Mark's hands began to glow with a magnificent yellow shine, and Noriko recalled watching three neon-yellow beams dazzle through the air. Only one was accurate, and the target whistled away into smoke similar to its comrade, and Mark cheered as he realized that there were only three left.

The remaining figures dropped their hands and lowered themselves back behind the cars; Mark knew that they this was their respite and that they would be back soon, but he didn't care. There were three now, and the whopping majority belonged to him and his classmates – for now, and with Noriko on his side, his confidence whispered words of encouragement in his ear. The blue shine in his peripheral vision directed him to Noriko as she writhed on the floor with her arms wrapped around the countless wounds on her body.

Running to her, he knelt down and elevated her head.

"They got you good Nor-Nor," he said with a smile, putting pressure on the simulated wound on her arm. "Where does it hurt the most?"

"Everywhere. And call me Nor-Nor again and I'll break you in two."

Mark chuckled. He rarely crossed Noriko.

"You think you can carry on?" he asked, convincing his hope to fight against the tainted doubt. "Can you stand up?"

"Why did they turn to smoke?" Nori digressed, coughing as she felt the real – yet unreal – pain pump through her body. _At least_ she had experienced it though, unlike Victor. _At least_ she was prepared. _At least_ she was trained for this. Stubborn till the end.

"That means they're gone," Mark replied. "It means the DR recognizes that they've been killed in the simulation. The same thing happens to us, it's why Paras disappeared after the explosion."

Noriko raised an eyebrow. She suddenly questioned how Mark would know of that _particular_ event, and despite the pain that pecked at her nerves, Noriko could still think clearly as she eyed Mark suspiciously before she blessed him with her reply.

"How did you know about the explosion?"

Mark smiled with a devious grin before chuckling to himself and taking a lackadaisical breath of smoky air. "You look like you just caught me out on a murder or something. I _watched_ the explosion myself. How else would I know?"

Noriko's lip curled. "And you didn't come to help us? We could've used you!"

"You all seemed to have it under control, so I just took a step back."

"Mc. Coy is going to cut your balls off for that one – he hates when people breach comradery."

"Oh whatever," Mark yawned. "I haven't been in the DR in ages, I just thought I'd have a little fun with it."

"Great for some of us," she coughed back, feeling the pain envelop her body. Mark assessed the wound on her back from her earlier tumble and he hypothesized that had the simulation been real, Noriko would have had a cracked spine.

"I'm surprised you were able to do all that dodging with a bang like that. Noriko's feistier than I thought," commented Mark with a wink.

"Save it – _ugh_." The blue haired mutant croaked as the pain suddenly supplanted her words, and Noriko felt a stinging pang of pain waddle up her insides. "_Gaah_, shit. I forgot how much this – _gaah_ – hurts."

Mark watched helplessly as the girl succumbed to the pain. "Shit. _Ugh_, if you see Victor, do me a favor and punch him? _Paah_!"

Mark smiled faintly. "It's gonna be hard to win this without you. I've taken out five on my own now, but it this would be a smoother ride with you here."

"Quit rubbing it in," Noriko panted. "_Fuck_! Just don't lose this game. We need to – _Ah_ - win."

Mark could relate to her determination, and hummed a laugh. "Couldn't agree more. See ya on the other side.. Nor-Nor."

Her face frowned and Mark could tell that had she had a minute – _second_ – longer, she would have chided him for the usage of the nickname. She had failed her hopes of proving a point, and Noriko grunted with anger as the thought of Megan and Ben winning the simulation jeered her indignation. The angrier she felt, the more the pain intensified and Noriko could feel her strength ebb away; the cuts on her body combined with the unmerciful throbbing in her spine zapped the remnants of her energy and soon enough, Noriko could barely sustain the ability to remain angry. Her eyes flicked away, and similarly to the elimination of the hooded figures, Noriko vanished and Mark was left alone.

"Three of them; Four of us. We have a chance," Mark whispered to himself, before departing in search of the other three.

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Hours had past, so it felt, for Ben and Megan and in that time, much had changed. As Megan was in the sky, she spotted Mark weaving between the paths of the car park. After exchanging pleasantries – and some questions to why Mark left the group at the beginning of the simulation – the trio marched through the car park as per usual, in search of the remaining enemies.

Mark had filled them in on the happenings of when he was alone, and when he rendezvoused briefly with the now-eliminated Noriko. Ben and Megan couldn't help but laugh at the fact the girl had been eliminated after an odious declaration of her independence and dismissal of needing to be in a group setting thereafter. Ben mused that had she remained with them, she'd still be in the game.

The Pixie and the Match too apprised Mark of Paras's early demise; Noriko' exit, and Victor's confliction with Ben himself and Noriko. Mark seemed unfazed that Victor was new to the Danger Room, and reminded the duo that the reptile was a formidable fighter, and that age did not render him incapable; Megan's surprise over Mark's defense of Victor was short-lived, as he soon asked her and Ben to never let Victor know that he had said that.

On lighter terms, the group advanced onwards, feeling safer in the company of each other. Ben and Megan had not seen any of the masked men since the beginning of the simulation and by the time Mark had found them, they almost wanted to see the enemies, just for a change of atmosphere – well, in Ben's case anyway. As they progressed, the group's conversation had whittled to a mere remark here and there, or a nervous question from Megan. Ben's mind, however, was heavy with something else and he spoke aloud, finally breaking the mould.

"Just thoughta somethin'," he said, his gaze directed at the floor.

"Shoot," Mark quipped.

"Megan'nd I were confused t'why those mystery men weren't attackin' us when it was just th'two've us. It makes sense nai that that was because they were preoccupied dealin' with you."

Mark stuck his chest out proudly before speaking. "While you guys were marching around this place like headless chickens, I managed to knock out five of those freaks on my one. Well, four of them on my own and one with Noriko. I really am that great," he said with a grin, "but why? What's up?"

Ben punched his shoulder light-heartedly and continued. "Everyone is together, 'cept fer Victor."

"Aaand?"

"What if th'reason they haven't shown their faces – or not faces, 'chever you want – is somethin' to do with Victor preoccupyin' them."

Megan's giggle was replaced by Mark's words and the mutant spoke with dismissive clarity. "So you're saying that Vicky's replaced me as mercenary rogue?" He chuckled with his hands over this stomach. "That kid cracks me up. His first time in the Danger Room, and he's already playing the lone-wolf."

Megan laughed. "You were the one who said he's not incapable!"

"I _neeever_ said that?" Mark drawled back, with a grin. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Oh riight," Megan replied, tapping her nose. "I'm getting the hang of your jokes now."

"Took you three years," Mark laughed.

"Felt liek three thousand," Ben interjected.

"Hey! I'm just a slow learner!"

"_Slow_ being the stressed word of that sentence."

Megan gently tackled Mark and she and Ben exchanged a humorous look. As Ben listened to Mark's light-hearted jokes at Megan's expense, he realized that it had been weeks since he was last alone with them. Being pre-occupied with school as well as dealing with Laurie-related problems, had pushed him from his group of friends, and Ben sighed as he hoped that they would have moments like this in the future.

Mark and Megan continued to joke back and forward for the next hour and the trio almost forgot that they were even in the Danger Room. It had been the most slow-paced simulation that Ben had ever been part of and he attributed their easiness to this fact.

But as they advanced on, their humor began to shrink as the anticipation dropped toxins of contrary uneasiness into their systems. As they verged to the right bank, a palpable silence hanged over them, and Ben mused that something suddenly wasn't right.

From the other side of the bank, came a shrill shriek and an obvious intake of air that caused Ben and Mark to look at each other before they both leapt for the slope.

However, as their feet met the squishy soil of the bank, both boys were blocked by an intravenous Megan, who threw herself in front of their paths and spread her arms out wide.

"Wait!" she admonished, taking a breath to make herself look larger and more confident. "Let me check it out first. I can fly, remember? Once you two are over there, you could be sitting ducks.. Not that you look like ducks or anyth—"

"We're goin' Megan," Ben chided.

"Please just listen to me. Whatever's over there, it doesn't sound safe. I can check it from above and give you the all-clear."

"Sounds pretty safe," Mark said, glancing at Ben who was having none of it.

"Ah said it to Noriko, 'nd Ah'll say it t'you too. We don't risk teammates over a possibility."

"But you'll risk yourself?" she asked. "Please Ben, let me prove that I can do this."

Mark nodded with assurance, and Ben sighed, reluctantly agreeing the girl's request, although making no efforts to hide his malcontent.

"Be careful, 'nd come right back," he advised with a frown. Megan nodded and her wings fluttered as she ascended into the sky. She glided over the bank and disappeared below its hump, and into the commotion below.

Ben and Mark waited nervously for her return, and to their relief, the pixie came fluttering back to their side of the bank moments later; her ease, however, misrepresented by the paleness of her face.

"Tis'it, Megan?" Ben asked, placing two hands on her shoulders. "What did y'see?"

"It's Victor. He's over there. He.. he took out two of those bad guys," she babbled.

"That's good?" Mark noted, "Why do you look like a phantom sat on your face?"

After receiving a warning glare from Ben, Mark hushed and Megan continued. "His arm. It's.. It's different."

"Whose arm?" Ben asked. "C'mon Megan, help us out."

"Victor's. It's.. It's.. all spiky and lumpy. It's changed.. It's huge."

"She's not making any sense," Mark sighed. "We need to go over."

"Ah told'ye this was a bad idea!" Ben snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose

"Okay, jeez, chill out! How was I supposed to know Victor would go all _horny_? Let's just go over and help him out and see what's happening," Mark pacified with a smile. "Megan, you wait here."

"I.. I can't go back over there. It's too scary. Victor's too scary," she babbled back, hands shaking.

"I know, that's why you're going to stay here," Mark reiterated, shaking her shoulders slightly. "We'll be right back. Take a pill, ok?"

Ben punched Mark's arm again. "S'no time fer jokes," he stopped and pushed Mark from Megan's view before addressing the girl himself. "We'll be back in no taim Meg. Stay here'nd stay calm."

"Let's stop wasting time then!" Mark groaned, turning towards the bank and leaping for it. "See ya at the top!"

Ben was in close pursuit, but smiled with assurance at Megan before climbing the slope. The pixie remained in her stance, bothered by the deformation of her classmate, and she wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver before soothingly stroaking her arms with her hands.

"Don't leave me for too long," she whispered, "I hate being alone."

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As Ben and Mark popped over the hump of the bank, their eyes fell upon a landscape that mimicked the destruction that the explosion at the beginning of the simulation had created. Black smoke twirled and danced in ringlets over a gathering of vehicles in the new car park, and standing on one of them, was a slouching Victor Borkowski. Opposite him, was the remaining cloaked person and the boys watched as the reptile leapt and evaded each telekinetic strike from the enemy.

"H'needs our help," Ben stated, taking a step forward, only to be halted by his friend.

"Wait," Mark cawed. "There's no point in both of us charging at him. You go to Victor and I'll find a different way down."

"What d'ya have in mind?"

"A way of insuring your ass, just listen to me and go," he insisted. With a nod, Ben charged down the bank and rushed to Victor's aid. And with Ben as his distraction, Mark absconded across the slope and blocked himself behind an array of vehicles that sat at the bottom of the slope, away from the battle.

As Ben neared his teammate, he could see the source of Megan's shock; his right arm had been completely mutilated, and not by injury.

Victor's wrists were dotted with stocky lumps and horns, that became longer and thicker as they traveled up to his shoulder. The boy's arm was now the thickness and width of his own lithe body, and Ben watched in awe as he flipped and twirled around the enemy's attack, utterly unimpaired by the additional weight to his right.

Dragging himself back to his environment, Ben faced Victor, and addressed him.

"Victor, S'Ben. Ah'm here t'help ya," he shouted, as Victor twirled in the air and avoided a catapulted metallic pipe. He looked over his shoulder at Ben, nodded, and continued in his endeavors.

Ben had to continually stop himself from marveling in awe of Victor's smooth corkscrew turns and swan dive-like descents, and the mutant's mouth dropped as the reptilian whistled through the air and landed posture-perfectly on the roof of a different car. The remaining cloaked man appeared to be the strongest of his deceased comrades as he levitated multiple disassembled pieces of the vehicles and fired them at Victor.

The mutant held his own, but when a flaming tire narrowly grazed his shoulder, Victor fell with a husky grunt and Ben jumped to action.

The firey student hopped onto the roof of a car, with a thud. The opponent had finally noticed him, and as Ben placed his hands together amen-style and pointed the tips at the final cloaked figure before him, the enemy raised his arms into the air and suspended an army of jagged rocks and stones that had detached from a minor fissure in the car park.

A stalemate imbued their actions, and both sides waited for the other to move, neither wishing to be the first to attack.

"Do it!" Victor cried out, clutching to the burning skid mark across his arm. "Do it fast!"

Ben readied himself; he felt the churning of the embers in his stomach, and the lion-like roar of the flames surrounding his body. His blood rushed, the flames gushed, and Ben almost threw his chest into his arms as a spiral of fire magnificently growled with power and mass, as it pierced the air with a charred bellow.

From Victor's view, he could see the cloaked enemy smiling and his mind raced through the possible reasons for such a reaction. But his concerns were concluded as reminiscent of the masked figures' counter of Noriko's electricity, the enemy lifted a hand and halted the fire in its path.

Ben froze.

Victor gulped.

And the cloaked man smiled.

The stalemate rose from dormancy and both teenagers glanced at each other, the _'where do we go from here' _dangling over them. Ben had one chance, and his timing needed to be impeccable; if he leapt too soon, it would be over, and if he leapt too late: it would be over too. He needed meticulous timing.

As Ben bent his legs, and broadened his shoulders, the masked man released the fire with a push of his arms, and it came spinning back towards its creator.

The teenager could handle fire, he was made of it after all, and a part of Ben hoped that his body could sustain such a plethora of the oxidant that he was made of. But he had never had exposure of this intensity before, and the student launched himself from his stance.

Suddenly, there was a call of Ben's name from above, and Ben's mind categorized it as an audible hallucination. But as the pillar of fire flew past him, and he realized that he had landed safely to the floor, he took a moment to look up and glance at the conundrum above.

"Ben, I've come to help!" declared Megan, fluttering in the sky.

He couldn't even react: Why would she have put herself in the middle of danger? His responsibility over her cried out, and Ben cawed as he helplessly watched the girl hover in the sky, resembling the _sitting duck_ that she had prevented him from becoming.

But he had no time; he couldn't fly, and he could easily save her by eliminating the remaining enemy and ending the simulation. It was a risk, no doubt, and Ben groaned as he asked himself why Megan would be so careless.

The distance behind him boasted the twirling pillar of fire, and he watched it shrink as it advanced into the horizon. But after catching a smile from the antagonistic telepath, Ben's eyes popped open as the fire was wrapped in a telekinetic coat and directed back towards the car park.

A scream from above pinched Ben's attention again and he watched in horror as the pillar of fire engulfed the newly-arrived Megan before twirling down to scoop him up in its wrath also.

With Victor's screams in the background, Ben was whipped from his respite and was tossed and chucked around the mouth of the flames. He was thrown forward and pulled back by the wrath and his body became numb to the pain

At first, he felt a surge of life as the flames rejuvenated him, but as the gassy components filled Ben beyond his necessary capacity, the student felt inflated and overfilled. His legs expanded as a balloon with an excess of air, and his throat roasted its own bones. Painfully, he succumbed to the same oxidants that made up his very being and he vanished into a wisp of smoke, becoming the third victim of the telepath's manipulation.

Victor watched as Megan was instantly obliterated by the flames, and he had to shake himself when he was Ben succumb to a similar fate. Both were knocked out of the simulation before his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, he was the last one left.

The cloaked person turned back to him after marveling over the destruction of two more students, and pointed at him with its long fingernails. Victor growled in response.

"It's only you and I," he stated, preparing for another confrontation. The figure tilted his head up, careful not to reveal the contents under the hood before pointing his finger in a direction beyond Victor's.

"No," he whispered, pointing to a car to Victor's left. "We are not alone."

With a flick of its wrist, a scream was heard and from behind Victor, a commotion ensued; the reptilian flicked his head around, and was shocked at what he saw. Mark was levitated out from behind a car – wrapped under the might of the telepath's power, and he squirmed and yelled as the man abducted the teenager's kinetic right.

"You cannot trick me," he whispered.

Mark squealed and squirmed and kicked his legs viciously. "Let me down! Let me the hell down!"

In lieu of a response, the masked enemy raised Mark further into the air, and Victor cringed as he guessed that his classmate was about forty feet high, towering over the merciless gravel beneath. His headphones began to crack and Mark yelled as they imploded around his neck and rendered his powers useless.

"That better be simulation-exclusive or I'm so suing," Mark bit, his words sliding over the recipient's head.

"Surrender," implored the cloaked enemy. "You will be spared if you surrender."

"I'd rather die," he croaked back, as the psychic bonding around his body focused on his neck.

Victor watched helplessly as his teammate struggled before him. Timing was everything, and one slip up could be the end of both of them, and Victor couldn't go back to Beast with a failure behind his belt, especially if Noriko was there waiting for him. The reptilian's reflection in Mark's eyes quickly vanished into the surface, and Mark laughed roughly as he witnessed his friend's camouflage.

"You know what," Mark said to the figure. "I think I remember why I hate the Danger Room."

The figure said nothing, and instead tightened its grip on the student, emitting a cough from him.

"I always hated – _agh_ - how real this shit felt."

"Surrender," the cloaked enemy reiterated.

Mark laughed. "No, buddy. _You_ surrender."

And with that, Victor dashed from behind the foe, smashing an overgrown arm into his spine and knocking him away from his stance, as well as his advantage. "I warned you," Mark sighed, feigning concern.

The enshrouded enemy fell to the floor with a grunt, and Victor stomped a foot into his cloak as he tried to squirm away.

"You're not going anywhere."

The telekinetic force that restrained Mark was suddenly dropped and the student descended to the floor with a crash. With all of his attention on the enemy, Victor raised his arm one last time and embedded it into the back of the cloaked opponent's head, and with a gasp, it dissipated into smoke and Victor's foot met a flat reminiscent robe.

It was over. They had won, and Victor felt overwhelmed that he had finished an advanced level in the Danger Room on his first try. His arm felt unimpaired, despite its new appearance and Victor allowed his legs to fold as he rested on the floor.

From the corner of his eye, he could see smoke dance from behind the car where Mark had fallen and the mutant realized that his classmate hadn't survived the drop, and thus Victor was now truly, the only one left.

Paras, Noriko, Megan, Ben, Mark.. he watched them all – five experienced students in the Danger Room – fall before he did, and the student took a celebratory gasp of air as he tilted his head back and chuckled to himself.

The smoke from the burnt bonnets swirled around him, and the blood-red sky above wept its final crimson tear, as the boy fell to the floor with a snort.

"I did it," he cheered. "I _am_ able to do this. I _am_ capable."

He felt himself laugh uncontrollably and the mutant couldn't help but chortle at his success. He had risen, when everyone else had fallen, and the student slapped his hand onto the gravel as he uncontrollably guffawed to himself.

Noriko's insults, Ben's doubt: they both slid off Victor's chest as he celebrated his success, and the value of their words diminished to nothing more than mere caws of negativity. He didn't care what they thought; he had proven himself _to_ himself, and he chuckled frenziedly as he realized this.

And as he soaked up the glory, a sudden mechanical moan emitted from around him, but he failed to allow it to interrupt his chuckling. The cars began to flicker and disappear; the sky sank into itself and the sun pixilated before it faded away. The gravel beneath him began to distort and the banks on either side crumbled to the floor. Had he blinked more than once, he would've missed most of the transformation. And after the last piece of debris was absorbed into the newly-exposed grey grids beneath, Victor realized that the simulation had ended, and he was back.

He continued to laugh uncontrollably, slapping his hands onto the floor as his stomach curled with mirth. He sucked in the air at any moment he could, and the convulsions of laughing hindered his ability to breathe freely. He thought of Noriko's face when she realized that he had won, or Ben's feeling of stupidity when he recognized that the person he had doubted had come to be the only one left in the simulation. But most of all, he guffawed at himself: The youngest, most inexperienced student in the group had come to trounce everyone else in their home ground. His reaction too, fueled his amusement as he realized that his self-confidence was the sword to his sheath, and he spat with mirth as he caught himself feeling as if he was in a corny movie where the protagonist begins to believe in him or herself after a cheesy epiphany. Every problem in his life seemed so trivial now, and the gleam in Victor's eyes belied nothing – belief in himself _was_ everything, and this was something he had learned today.

Suddenly, the door from the side of the room swung open, and his five teammates, plus Laurie and came marching out.

"I'd need to see it to believe it," Noriko grunted, turning her head away from the reptile as Mark picked up the pieces.

"Well, well, well, look who won it after all?" Mark chuckled, fondling his headphones with delight after he realized that they were still in intact, "looks like I have some competition in the Danger Room!"

Paras burst from the group with a smile that lit up the room, and he fell to his knees beside Victor with an ecstatic expression on his face.

"Mujhe tum par naaz hai, Victor. I knew you could do it," Paras exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the teenager. "You've proved that just because you're less experienced than us, doesn't mean that you're weaker. You're as durable as any of us are."

"Get a room!" Mark chanted with a chuckle.

"I'm afraid I must interject," interrupted with a frown. "I wish to speak with all of you over your.. methods. I'm afraid I am uneasy about some of your tactics." He beckoned everyone back up to his office, and signaled for them to seat themselves at the same table the gathered at upon arrival; the group assembled around it, and sat themselves down, with Victor's chuckling continuing under his breath.

"Now is the time to tell you that this was a test," Beast started, intertwining his fingers across the table amongst the horrified expressions of the students.

"You're joking, right?" Mark asked.

"No. All of you have been graded based on your performances and they shall affect your average."

"If I knew that," Mark hissed, "I would've played safer! Why didn't you tell us?"

Beast sighed, and looked at Mark from over the small rectangles of his glasses. "Because, Mr. Sheppard," he said straightly, "I wanted to see how you'd perform without an outside factor, such as a grade, influencing your choices."

The students' mouths dropped – with the exception of Victor - and each of them back-tracked in their minds to analyze any possible mistakes they made.

"And I can tell you," Beast said with a sigh, "that _all_ of you failed."

And at once, Paras, Noriko, Megan, Ben and Mark yelped in perfect unison.

"How did we _fail_?" Noriko asked with a frantic grunt.

"You, Ms. Ashida, failed with a minus – the lowest of everyone. You practiced the exact behavior that we discourage, you defied the teamwork that Xavier's promotes and you tried to end a comrades life for selfish reasons."

"But that wasn't real life!" Noriko claimed. "You think I'd do that if it was real?"

"I cannot ascertain. Would you?"

"Of course not!" she rebuked, slamming a hand on the desk. Beast nodded skeptically.

"And Ben," He continued. "From what I watched, it was _your_idea to end Victor in his suffering. Does this reflect something you would do in reality? Would you end a friend's life when you could help them instead?"

"Well, no, Ah wouldn't?"

"Your actions do not match your words, Mr. Hammil," said Beast, hiding his guilt as he scolded his students. "And Mr. Sheppard, why did you depart from your teammates at the beginning of the simulation?"

Mark scoffed. "Because I knew I could take out those cloaked freaks faster on my own. And I did, didn't I? I killed.." He counted on his fingers as his mind traced over the events. "Five. I killed five of them by myself – that's over half, and yet you're failing me. Thanks doc."

Beast sighed. "Had you stuck with your team from the beginning and acted as you did, I would be granting you a B+."

"Why not an A+?" Mark asked with a frown.

"Because you still managed to get yourself killed, Mr. Sheppard. The purpose of the Danger Room is to _prepare_ you for combat, not encourage you to run wild."

Before Mark could protest, he was interrupted by Paras, who spoke softly and evenly and in direct contrast to the others.

"And what of me, Mr. McCoy, what did I do to deserve a fail?"

"Paras," he groaned, exasperated with the rashness that he saw on the battlefield. "You managed to get yourself killed barely fifteen minutes into the simulation. Your role in the events were minor, to say the least and because of this, I had nothing to grade."

The violet student sank into his seat with a sigh, and Victor's hand rested on his shoulder.

"And me?" Megan asked. Beast looked up with a lightened frown and wiped a furry brow before speaking. "You were the closest to passing, Ms Gwynn,"

"_She_ almost passed?" Noriko gasped. "Is this a joke? _Megan Gwynn_ preformed better than I did? Are you writing a comedy sketch?"

"No," Beast admonished, his voice raising. "She is the only one who didn't suggest ending her teammate's life or straying from the group." His eyes wandered to Mark before pinning Noriko's countenance. "Ms. Gwynn still failed however, but simply at a more positive margin than the rest of you – call it an F+, if you will."

"Where did I go wrong?" asked the Pixie, frowning at Noriko's reaction. "Megan," Beast sighed. "You rely too much on others to protect you. You were also careless and rash, hence you managed to fly into the center of a tongue of flames."

Resigning herself to her faults, the girl plopped further into the seat with a drained moan.

"And why did Victor fail?" Noriko asked with a huff. "I thought he was the champion of us all."

"Victor failed on the same basis as you and Mr. Sheppard," said Beast matter-of-factly. "He left the group in a huff and failed to return."

"What about your arm?" Megan asked suddenly, her eyes dancing over his skin only to see it back to normal. "Why did your arm look like it had a lump of armor on it? It was huge." She shook as the memory of the scaly limb came flooding back to her.

Victor froze momentarily before smiling awkwardly. "Erm. You see, I."

"Spit it out," Noriko reprimanded.

"After the explosion of that car," he reminisced, "my arm was shattered badly. _You_ wanted to finish me off because you just presumed I was inexperienced." The boy stopped, and his indignant green eyes flicked across from Noriko to Ben. "When I got away from you both, I found a broken piece of metal with a sharp end and I used it to cut off my arm."

Megan shrieked while Noriko, Mark and Laurie's faces dropped. "You did _what_?"

"I cut it off," he reiterated. "You see, with my powers, I can grow back limbs if I lose them, except, there's a side effect. It'll grow back stronger, and with more protection than it had before. I needed my arms to defend myself since I was on my own, so I just cut it off and it grew back perfectly – but just a little different looking."

Megan blinked at him with her face distorted, and Noriko broke the silence with a chuckle.

"Damn Victor, I'm impressed."

"Same," Mark added.

Megan shook herself. "So that.. that's why your arm looked all weird." She stopped and composed herself. "I mean, not weird! Just different – different is all. That's not bad, you know! It's just different, ooft, I already said that."

Victor smiled and shoved closer to Paras.

"It's okay Megan, thanks. Sorry for frightening you."

The girl smiled awkwardly before leaning backwards and Beast leaned forward again.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss or ask?"

The students remembered their grades, and their moods slipped back into the negative, and the teacher stood up.

"No? Then you are all excused. Please remember what you've learned today, as I hope such actions will be omitted next time."

The mutants huffed unenthusiastically before floundering out of the room. Noriko was first to stomp out and a more composed Ben held himself from doing the same as he departed behind her. Laurie, feeling detached from the negativity, slid out of the room without a word and Mark and Megan lackadaisically followed from behind.

Paras and Victor rose from their seats and after exchanging a smile, the two headed for the egress; Paras stepped out first, with Victor in close pursuit. But as the reptilian turned to close the door behind him, he was halted by the voice from inside, and he pressed his face back into the room.

"Mr Borkowski," Beast called, looking up from the table.

"Congratulations on holding your own."

Victor smiled. "Thank you sir, I appreciate it."

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Oh, and any Beta-Readers out there? I'm still devoid.

Mujhe tum par naaz hai - I'm so proud of you.


	10. A Token of My Extreme

Chap 10! Sorry for taking so long! I'm inundated with assignments etc but I stayed up until 7am to get this chapter up to standard and out to you guys sans further delays. Enjoy.

Note: I don't know Hindi; all my knowledge (or lack of) is limited to Google Translate and some language forums. If there's anyone who would like to fix my Hindi grammar (or that of Google Translate's) please PM me :-) Also, I make references to some beliefs in Jainism: I study philosophy and religion but by no means do I know everything regarding Jainism. If there are any mistakes made, please let me know. Thank you!

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_Brilliance_. Utter _Brilliance_.

That's all Victor could feel during the night. His mind traced over the events in the DR and he smiled as he collected the image of Noriko's face when she saw him sitting there – chortling – as he soaked up the glory. In fact, the ecstatic emotions danced through him so definitively that it hindered his ability to sleep, and the reptilian mutant had to inhibit another snort. Chopping Noriko down felt nothing short of _utter brilliance_, and as the mutant remained awake – although with his eyes closed – he allowed the feelings of self worth and confidence to fill him.

The snores of Paras in other single bed across the room soothed Victor into his pillow and as he lay there with a grin on his face, his diaphragm warmed as he began to view everything around him with raw beauty. The mundane was amplified to extra-ordinary and despite the innate negativity in the world, somehow Victor managed to see a sanguine beauty in everything – even things that saddened, angered or annoyed him. Even the bad things had become exploding sources of positivity and the teenager hoped that the feelings he felt would remain in him forever, and would permanently paint the world around him brighter and more colorful. There was no wrong in the world: bigotry was surmountable; hardships were trivial and stress was non-existent. Everything, for Victor, felt right.

He conceded. The reasons for his ebullient feelings certainly derived from a trivial win in the Danger Room, but his success meant more to him than it did, perhaps, to the other students. Over the past years, Victor had come to doubt his abilities, his strength, and his drive. He always managed to come in fifth place, even when he worked his hardest – regarding school, activities, skills, honing powers, etc. He just never managed to reach the zenith of the capability of which he _knew_ he had in him. It was just a matter of believing in himself.

To add to it, Victor faced a number of social presumptions that he found himself fighting, through most of his teenage years. It angered him that society expected him to act flamboyant and boisterous when that was far from him; he didn't believe that his sexuality should be a definition of himself, and just because his people have an unfair stigma attached to them, doesn't mean that he should allow it to obstruct or influence the person he is.

The win in the Danger Room represented much more to him; it was symbolic of the untapped capability that was always within him, as well as a puncture in the stigma that told him that he could never retain true masculinity due to a small aspect of himself. Besides, if his people _are_ so flamboyant and girly, then how was it he managed to win a combat-based simulation, and defeat Ben Hammil and Noriko Ashida - two of the most formidable fighters in the school? Not very flamboyant of him.

A groatling snore from Paras emitted a snigger from Victor, and the reptilian smiled as he viewed his partner – but more importantly, his friend – with awe, sublimity and admiration. Paras had helped him realize what he knew now, and it was Paras that helped him deal with the bottomless pit of insecurities that fettered him to his attempts to break free of a negative self-perception and rigid past.

"Psst," Victor whisper-hissed, "Par, wake up."

The violet skinned student rolled his head to the side, with a mouth open and a row of bottom teeth showing.

"Wake up," Victor repeated a little louder, reaching for the pillow underneath his head and chucking it at his roommate. With a gasp, Paras jolted up and his head swung from side to side with shock.

"Vahām̐ kauna hai!?" shouted Paras, as his head rotated above his neck as he searched his surroundings. He was met by a laughing Victor, who sat up on his bed and scrutinized him with a countenance of amusement.

"In English please," Victor mock chided.

"What is the..? What are you..? Why did you wake me?" a disgruntled Paras asked dryly, a sleepy footprint crunching his voice.

Victor smiled. "Just couldn't wait 'till morning to talk to you."

The confusion on Paras's face vanished and he laughed, or rather chuckled through his nose.

"I was enjoying a dream," replied the violet student, positioning himself so that his arms bolstered his body. "You were in it."

"Me? _I _was in it?" Victor asked with feigned shock. "But why would you be dreaming of _me_?"

Paras cringed, smiled and then sank into the bed, his sleepy eyes still impairing him.

"Use your imagination, _janu_," Paras chuckled back, pressing his cloudy head upon the palms beneath it.

"It's so late," Victor quipped with a mischievous smile lushed across his face. "I don't think my imagination is working too well around now. I guess you'll have to describe it to me."

Paras lifted an eyebrow. "_Sanam_," he sighed with a smile, allowing the flattery to breathe through him, "Victor without an imagination is not Victor. Surely you must agree?"

Victor smiled. "Well then I guess I'm having a Victor lapse. Don't make me _demand_, Paras. I want to hear about it."

"About my dream?"

"Yeah. And stop stalling."

"_Stalling. _This is such a funny word. I like how it rolls on my tongue. _Stalling_. St_aaa_lling."

"Stop!" Victor interjected with a needy grunt, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and sitting upright. "I want to know what you were dreaming about!"

"I already told you, Sanam."

"Don't _Sanam_ me. I know you're just teasing me."

"_Why_?" Paras gasped melodramatically. "Why, why would you accuse me of such a thing?"

"_Stop_ stalling!" Victor squawked, his hotheadedness filling his previous curiosity and excitement. "Don't tell me something and not go through with explaining it."

He shoved himself down upon his bed with a grunt and folded his arms across his chest as he peered up at the dark-distorted ceiling of his dorm. The sanguine inflated emotions began to mitigate, and Victor huffed amidst the silence. His unexpected frustration had clouded his awareness and he failed to see Paras slip from his own bed and crawl upon him sans any indication. The reptilian flinched momentarily but the soft touch of his friend soothed him like yoghurt to a sunburn.

Victor wrapped his arms around his roommate and he squeezed him close; an inaudible appreciation of Paras's loyalty to him during the worst, as well as a reinjection of happiness into his mind-frame.

"I'm sorry for teasing you," Paras whispered, his voice an elixir of healing to Victor's reminiscent chagrin. "You must understand, you are much _cuter_ when angry, Sanam."

"_Cute_?" gasped Victor, holding Paras close, "I think I want to vomit."

Paras snuggled into his mate. "Yes. You get a wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're angry."

"I?" Victor crunched his brow and outlined a crease above the bridge of his nose with his finger.

"Yes, that wrinkle. I like it," confirmed Paras, resting his chin upon his folded arms whilst peering into Victor's eyes. "Perhaps if I anger you enough, that wrinkle will become permanent."

"Ha!" Victor chortled, lifting his brow immediately and banishing the crease to a future frown. "Then I'd better start practicing sexier faces that include that specific wrinkle."

"I..I'd like that."

"Like it enough to dream about it?" Victor quipped back, displaying a row of teeth.

Before Paras could interject, Victor continued.

"I still want to know," he said, pushing his chest out further to support Paras's weight above. "Feel free to start whenever you want."

"I forget how persistent you are, Sanam," replied Paras. "But very well. I'll tell you. You wish you know _everything_?"

"_Everything_."

"Kahām̐ sē śurū karanē kē li'ē? _Where_ do I start?" Paras sighed with a grin.

"I did _what_?" Victor gasped with an O-shaped mouth. "Why would you dream of me doing _that_?"

"May I remind you Sanam, you wished for _all_ the details and I am giving you just that."

"Yeah but I hardly expected you to say _that_!" Victor replied back, his eyes wide. "I did hear you right, right?"

"I'll repeat myself," said Paras. "First you announced your love for Noriko and then you told me that you planned to runaway from the world with her, and that you two would get married."

Victor cringed. "Even if you paid me every last cent on this planet, I would never go near that girl. What in the name of God made you dream of that?"

"It is not what you expected?" Paras asked, lifting a mirthful eyebrow.

"You _didn't_ just ask me that?! You thought I was expecting you to tell me that you dreamt of me having an affair with Noriko Ashida? Fucking _Noriko Ashida_? You _do_ remember what she did to me in the DR yesterday, don't you?"

"I can not control my dreams, Sanam. I am sorry." Paras interjected.

Victor deflated and placed a melancholic hand upon Paras's back. "You got my hopes up," he sighed, wiping his forehead. "You teaser."

Paras smiled. "I cannot control your hopes either, Sanam. But if you do not mind me asking, what _were_ you expecting?"

Victor froze; his reply was bolstered by the unexpected redness in his green cheeks, which mirrored his mortification.

"Well?" Paras persisted, grinning.

"It's not obvious?" Victor stammered.

"Not for me," the violet mutant lied, milking Victor for all he was worth. "Please, enlighten me."

"Weeeeell," Victor drawled out, showing a row of slightly jagged teeth, "this is awkward."

Paras grinned. "I am wrong in guessing that what you expected was more.. _revealing_?"

Victor froze again, the blood in his cheeks now scintillating a bombastic rouge. "You could s_a_y that."

Paras grinned. "_How_ revealing?"

Victor smiled sheepishly and chuckled a 'Heh, Heh,' sound. "Use your imagination."

"I'm afraid it is very late. My imagination may not be working at this time."

"Don't play that!" Victor grunted mirthfully, his smile growing wider as Paras's face formed a feigned pensive expression.

"Oh how do you say it in English?" he asked himself. "Isn't it called: giving someone a taste of their own medicine?"

Victor conceded and wrapped his arms around his roommate. "Lets not play games. You _know_ what I was expecting."

Paras grinned and ruffled his head against Victor's chest. "Yes. Yes I do."

"Then why not start again? Except this time, why don't you tell me of a _different_ dream. One that doesn't include marriages, affairs or for God's sake, Noriko Ashida."

Paras's armor was chipped, and an expression of slight apprehension bolstered the muscles in his face. "V..Very well. I hope – forgive me, I can - recollect a _different_ one."

"So you _have_ dreamt about me?" Victor asked with hope and mirth.

"Yes," Paras replied matter-of-factly, hiding his concern. "I dreamt of you just a few hours ago, didn't I?"

"That was about Noriko, Paras! _Noriko_! It hardly counts."

"And why does it not?" he asked back.

"You really want me to spell it out?" Victor asked, apparently fed up with playing games.

"No. I am joking. I know of the dreams you speak of and I've had m..many of them – a..about you."

Victor melted into the mattress. The duvet surrounding him suddenly felt like a cloud that had inhaled him into its cottony limbs.

"Same here," he replied softly.

A silence twirled around both teenagers for a moment until Victor spoke again. "I miss you, you know." He smiled faintly and looked down at Paras, whose eyes had been escorted to something insignificant – as far as Victor was concerned - at the other side of the room. "When we're in different classes, I miss you. When you're in the shower, I miss you. When you're asleep, I miss you. I pretty much just miss you all the time."

Paras – now battling mild fear for what was to come and the feeling of utter bliss – flickered his eyes upon Victor's countenance, and his friend's words left his reptilian lips like a mellifluous melody, but also like the ominous caws of a raven.

"Why are you telling me this?" Paras asked, flirting with the beginning of a whisper as his eyes reluctantly melted into Victor's.

"Because I just want you to know it."

Victor's words unbuckled Paras and the teenager had to rein his impulse – the one that demanded he return to his bed.

"And _I_ want _you_ to be happy," replied the violet teenager, defying the voices of the elders back in India which churned behind his eyes. "Even if I was sent to live in a jungle for the rest of my life, I would to be happy with simply knowing that you are happy, Sanam."

Their gazes danced with each other for a time; their eyes searched each other's until Victor broke the moment, his face unexpectedly mirroring a plethora of anguished emotions which seemed almost suppressed until Paras had replied. "You deserve better than me," Victor said with resignation, sitting up on the bed and allowing his roommate to roll off of him.

Paras felt an instant shock of relief and pain shoot through his body; Victor had broken the intimacy, but a part of Paras was remorseful that that had to happen. He flushed out the doubts in his mind, and Victor's words supplanted everything else, so he turned to face him. "You listen to me," he demanded in response, bringing his hands to Victor's cheeks and pulling the boy's face into his, until their foreheads touched, "I would not be Paras Gavaskar if it wasn't for you, Victor. You made me who I am and you saved me as much as I saved you."

Victor inhibited an unexpected tear as his past bled into his mind and was soothed by the presence of Paras. "Can I kiss you?" he asked with hope, his needing pants tickling the lips of the purple student before him. Paras flinched and his lip raised as he breathed in a reluctant, yet necessary, breath of air. Their intimacy had reached its zenith – he would let it go no further, and would have to apprise Victor of this. Paras hated having to think of their intimacy as a bowl of water balancing on the head of a tribeswoman; it could only go so far before he had to do the deed and call Victor out on his advancements.

"You know I can't," replied Paras with a remorseful, shaky sigh. "I'm required to avoid any sexual thoughts or indulgence with anyone in order to achieve Moksha. You know this Victor. Even how I feel for you is a sin."

His words pierced Victor, albeit unintentionally, and the reptilian had to subdue the momentary resentment that generated inside of him. "So we'll never be together?" he sniffed, quickly swiping away a tear whilst denying its existence to himself and Paras – but more importantly, himself.

"We are together now, Sanam."

"That's not what I mean."

"You speak of the fact we cannot be physical?" Paras asked, as if the topic was taboo.

"Yes," replied Victor, unsure of why he was feeling guilty – or dirty – for speaking of something under the subject of the "s," word.

"My faith is very important to me, Sanam. I am on a path of enlightenment to save myself from the circle of birth, death and rebirth, and I can not do this by breaking the rules of my beliefs," replied Paras, in a voice that now failed to mitigate the lump of distress in Victor's stomach, "Please understand."

"I try," replied Victor, twiddling his fingers, "but it's getting harder and harder. I just can't see how hugging me is all that different from kissing me."

Paras sighed. "It is my fault. I shouldn't tease you like this." Victor turned his head and faced Paras, making no claims to restriction. "So you'll stop hugging me now too then?" The reptile chuckled sarcastically and continued. "What will happen when you're completely 'enlightened,' and don't want to touch me at all, incase _god-forbid_, you think of me in an inappropriate way? That's not a healthy way to live."

"It is how _I_ _wish_ to live," replied Paras, agitation creeping into his ascending tone.

"You want to live without touching me?" Victor bit back.

"It is not preferable, _no_," replied the violet student, gritting his teeth. "But it is what I must do to achieve Moksha!"

"But you just said that it was your wish!" Victor contradicted, standing to his feet and turning to face his roommate. "Can you just make up your mind already? Are you repulsed by me? Because of my skin? Is that it?"

"No!" Paras shouted, jumping to his feet as an expired jack-in-the-box. "Do not say such things! You know this is false!"

"Are you using your faith to hide the fact you don't like me?"

"I will not listen to you. How dare you accuse me of this. Do not change the facts to support your ridiculous theory," Paras responded, maintaining a calm, yet firm tone.

"Is it _that_ ridiculous, Par? You cuddle up to me and then you slither away when it goes further than that. And then you play the "I must remain pure," card whenever it suits you."

"That is because this is true! _I must_ remain pure."

"Then remain pure on your own – I need a break," barked Victor, before turning for the door and exiting with a slam. Paras sighed and fell onto Victor's bed; confusion, anger and despair filled him, and he threw his eyes onto his palms.

"Ōha vikṭara, sirpha agara tuma ēka jaina bhī thē," he sighed, before standing to his feet.

He needed to pray, after all, and nothing would come in the way of that.

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"Stupid violet skinned idiot," Victor grunted to himself, as he paced down the halls. "How can someone so smart act so stupidly?"

As he descended the stairs and ambled through the occupied halls of the school, he noticed the faces of the other students as they questioned the reason behind the scowl painted across his face.

"Why does he let himself get controlled by his faith? Can't he make an exception for me?" grumbled Victor.

He advanced past the classrooms, and trudged into the cafeteria, finding a seat and plopping down onto it. He continued to grunt and mumble to himself and when Mark Sheppard took the chair to his left, Victor had no idea.

"Paras, you drive me crazy sometimes," Victor groaned to himself.

"He's driving you crazy? Aren't you too a bit young for that?" asked Mark, as Victor almost jumped from his seat.

"What the? No, no." He waved his arms in front of his face dismissively and swung his eyes back. "I'm not in the mood for you Mark. Get lost."

"Oooh," he cawed. "_That_ kind of crazy. You two are fighting?"

"_No_! I said go away!"

"What're you fighting about?" asked the black haired student, neutral as he questioned.

"It's none of your business," Victor snapped back.

"You both still.. together? Wanna talk about it?"

"Yeah we are! Leave me alone, Mark!" Victor's knuckles resembled snow topped mountains as his smallest one began to twitch simultaneous to the emergence of a muscle in his jaw. Mark's face didn't seem to etch as much mirth on itself as Victor expected and thus, he allowed himself to deflate – a little. Mark's levity was strangely absent; Victor almost wished it were there, as Mark's strange firmness took him by surprise.

"Why do you look like you care?" asked Victor with a huff.

Mark half-smiled and fondled the headphones on his neck. "What happened?"

Victor rolled his eyes and grunted. "I asked _why_ do you care?"

"Just trying to help."

"And since when does Mark Sheppard actually help people?" Victor snapped back with a sarcastic cackle. "All you ever do is act like a dickhead. Say what you want about Paras and his religion, but at least he doesn't go around putting people down."

"So this is about Paras's religion?" mused Mark, his eyes pensively tracing the aligned lines of the ceiling panels.

Victor halted in his reply and thought of ways how Mark's presence masked an underlying prank that endeavored to embarrass Victor as revenge for his triumph in the Danger Room; if only he knew of Mark's confidence in him when Noriko and Ben had resigned themselves to doubt and planned to eliminate him. Victor remained unaware of the irony of the fact that he questioned the motives of the one person that actually – at one particular moment – believed in him.

"What're you up to?" Victor asked, folding his arms, a physical symbol of his wish to protect himself from self-incrimination. "What're you planning? Are you still pissed that I beat you in the DR? If so, take a number and join the queue of people, behind Noriko and Ben, who want to re-assert their power and put me in my place."

Mark laughed. "Hah! No offense Vicki, but I don't think about you enough to care about putting you in your place."

"But you think enough about me to ask about my personal relations?" inquired the reptilian, cautiously raising his eyes to scrutinize Mark.

Mark reddened. "Erm. Well, Heh. This is awkward. You got me there. I guess I should say that I don't."

"Then answer my question again," Victor said firmly. "_Why_ are you here?"

"I said that I was just asking, okay? Jeez, sorry for trying!" Mark stood to his feet and turned to walk away, but was called back by Victor, who didn't avert his gaze.

"You want to know?" he asked, lying back on the chair, "You think you can help me? Fine. I could do with some help so I'll run it past you. I don't really care if this is a trap – I have nothing to hide."

Mark sat down. "No strings attached," he assured, intertwining his fingers on the desk. "So why don't you tell your buddy Mark what's on your mind?"

"There's a few things," Victor exclaimed, pulling his hands over the scales on his head. "The first thing is that I'm not your buddy. Don't call yourself that, because it's not true."

Mark shrugged. "We clear?" Victor asked, before being met with a nod. "Good. And two, you never call me Vicky – not if you want to keep your arms or those headphones of yours."

"I thought we said no strings attached?" Mark asked with widened eyes.

"That's working one way."

"That's not fair!"

"Life's a bitch, suck it up," Victor said, sans mirth, emitting a slightly uneasy and forced smile from Mark. After showing he was ready to listen and abide by the rules, Mark nodded and denoted Victor to begin.

"It was all fine up until a while ago," started Victor, a frown arresting the neutral expression on his face. "We were cuddling, and I asked to kiss him and he said no – again – because he thinks he won't be freed from Muksah of whatever he calls it."

Mark, who was taken aback at the word 'cuddling,' nodded, and Victor continued. "I tried to understand but now I'm sorta insulted because I'm worried he doesn't want to touch me and he's just using the religion thing as a front. He has no problem cuddling up to me - apparently that's okay, but kissing is not."

Mark shuffled uncomfortably and Victor went on. "I said it to him," he admitted, slouching his shoulders as Mark raised his head. "I said it to him because I was pissed. He talks with this flowery language all the time and reminds me of - and I quote - 'everything we've been through,' but what he says doesn't add up to what he does and that annoys me."

Mark interjected with an _ahem,_ bringing his fist to his mouth as he feigned a throat clearing. "You said this to him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Vicki, or Victor, you called _me_ the dickhead?"

"What're you getting at?" asked Victor with an almost-indignant scoff.

"Such a little guy with such a big temper. You'd give Noriko a run for her money. Sorry!" he said, adding the latter as response to the embers of fury that danced in the reptile's eyes. "But in all seriousness, what if ParPar expected you to cut off your arm for him? Would you do it?"

"Well, it would grow back, so yes," Victor said flatly, with the _where are you going_ _with this_ look pinning Mark to his chair.

"Well let's say it didn't," replied Mark with a groan. "Go back to before you were a mutant, back when you weren't able to replace arms faster than you could ignite your temper."

Victor huffed. "_Fine_. Go on."

"If Paras asked you to cut off your arm – and it wouldn't grow back – would you do it?"

"Apart from the fact your example is completely whack, no. I wouldn't cut off my arm for him," said Victor without an iota of hesitation.

"And why is that?" Mark asked, surprised at the speed of the reptile's reply.

"Because I would be too angry that he'd expect that of me."

Mark smiled. "And I rest my case."

"You rest your? _What_? What do you mean?" Victor asked, his neck craning outwards as his eyes peered at Mark in bewilderment.

"You wouldn't cut off your arm because you'd be annoyed that he'd expect that from you? Sound familiar? Reverse the roles here – what if _you_ asked him to cut off _his_ arm for you?"

The penny dropped with Victor and he pressed his body against the table with certainty that he had found an obvious flaw in Mark's argument.

"You're not seriously going to compare Paras's religious reluctance to kiss me with him asking me _to cut my arm off?_ Proportions, Mark, _proportions_! There's a huge gap in comparison."

"Maybe for you," replied the musical mutant with a smile. "But not for him. To Paras, living by his faith is a life or death situation. By forcing him to break his rules, you _are_ asking him to cut off his arm. Living by his faith is what – he believes – grants him eternal heaven or whatever you want to call it. It's unfair of you to make him choose you or his religion. Both of you are obviously important to the guy, so if you really do care about him, you won't put him in a position where he has to choose."

Victor froze, and Mark's words pierced him like a dagger. He felt exhumed by a parallel universe of sorts – a twisted dimension where Mark Sheppard _actually_ spoke sense. The reptilian's mind stuttered over a possible reply, and he attempted to augment his own argument with hopes of adding another layer of contradictions or come-backs to devalue Mark's words. He failed miserably, however, and Victor sat in his chair, feeling a shred more ashamed than he had moments ago.

"It's maybe unlucky for you that Paras is the way he is, but as you said yourself, _life's a bitch_. You can either _suck it up_, or be a _dickhead_ and walk away. But I can't help you on that one. That's your job VicVic."

Victor sighed. "I didn't mean that. You're not a dickhead. _Shit_. Didn't mean to call you that."

Mark laughed before snatching a serviette from the table, crumpling it, and chucking it at Victor. "No hard feelings Vicky."

"So what now? What do I do now?" the reptile asked, feeling lost as the foundations for his hotheadedness were swept away.

"Well, erm. Just say sorry to the guy. It's not that hard."

"_I don't do apologies_," said Victor immediately, as if he was quickly reciting a phrase or mantra under the command of a teacher.

"Well then," Mark said, lifting an eyebrow, "take option two and walk away. Your choice."

"There is no option two."

Mark smiled. "Well then I think it's obvious then, eh?" He stood to his feet, cracked his knuckles and peered down at Victor one last time. "Just give him time, man. Don't expect the poor guy to change – if he even changes at all – in the space of two or three years or how ever long you've known each other. Paras is a good guy, don't screw it all up over tonsil tennis."

Victor flinched before Mark turned to walk away, and his eyes watched as he pursued the main doors. Victor muttered two words that went unnoticed by the black haired mutant, and as the double doors assumed their position on the hinges and concealed the departed mutant behind them, Victor whispered them, with no-one but himself to receive them.

"Thank you."


	11. The Corner of First and Amistad

_- "Two police officers were wounded during the assault at Salem Center Bank. It's unclear to investigators who the perpretrators are, but CCTV footage shows that there was a man and a woman, but their identities remain unknown." -_

"Shit!" Emma bellowed as she zapped the TV off with a violent flick of the remote before she slammed her head into her arms upon the table. "The Brotherhood of Mutants strikes again."

"You don't know if it was them for certain," Warren consoled, undeterred by his convincings himself. "It could've been any lunatics on the streets."

"No," Emma sighed, lifting her head, "it was definitely the Brotherhood. That woman was Mystique and that masked man was Victor Creed. I can see right through those disguises."

"That doesn't make sense. We have an agreement with them that they won't wreck havoc on us."

"Yes, on _us_," Emma sighed, resting a cheek on her palm. "From what I remember from the agreement, robbing _a bank_ doesn't mean they're in breach of contract. It just means that they are what they are. Criminals."

"Technically, no," Warren stated, bringing himself to the corner of her desk and sitting down, knowing well that it would piss Emma off in a light hearted way. "If the public finds out that mutants were behind this robbery, they'll immediately come to Xaviers demanding retribution. You know how it works."

"That still doesn't mean they broke the agreement," she stated flatly.

"Nooo," Warren sang back, "but if their actions lead to the _public_ wrecking havoc on us, then would they be breaking our agreement?"

"No."

"So it's only direct havoc on us that counts?"

"Yes."

"Where in the agreement does it say that?"

Emma sighed as she grew increasingly more agitated before she slapped her hands onto the desk. "It doesn't matter Warren! What are we going to do? Prance up to the door of the Brotherhood and demand that they don't rob banks anymore? They'd laugh in my face!"

"Then let them," he said in a softer tone, bringing her to his level. "They're only doing this because they're getting away with it."

"I've got a school to run, Warren. I can't deal with them right now."

That didn't set well with him. Something about sitting idly by while hard working civilians were being robbed of their money didn't wash down easily with Warren. He remained quiet, and swung his legs gently. "Then what if _I_ went to the Brotherhood?" he suggested softly.

Emma – who apparently was having none of it – shot to her feet, with two straight arms tensely shaking beneath her. "I said enough's enough! The last thing I need is the Brotherhood of fucking mutants on my back, Warren. Give me a break!"

Warren's countenance dropped and his brow burrowed. "A break from what?" he questioned, turning to face her, "a break from your facials and pedicures? With all due respect Emma, there isn't anything for you to take a break _from_."

Their eyes battled during a paused gaze, and Emma broke it when her lip raised and her nostrils flared. "Get _out_ of my office," she said with a low, shaky tone, her arms trembling beneath her.

Warren rolled his eyes and grunted. "You should know that Scott approached me the other day."

Emma remained silent, enthralled in her anger deriving from Warren's words. He continued on regardless, much to her chagrin. "He said that some other teachers weren't happy with how you run the school."

Emma's trembles in her arms had spread to her face, and her eyes grew progressively more rouge as her cheeks fluttered as if they hosted the epicenter of an earthquake. She then exploded into a firey rage of vexation.

"Get out! Get out! Get the _fuck_ out! I don't want to look at you people anymore!"

"Jesus Emma, calm down."

"_Calm down_," she seethed. "You tell me that my own staff are planning a _coup d'état _and you expect me to calm down?"

"I'm not telling you that! I'm just passing on something Scott said – he's the king spewer of bullshit, may I remind you."

"Well you seem to agree with him!" Emma bit back, her nails now slicing into her palms.

"No I don't. All I'm saying is that I think we shouldn't allow the Brotherhood to get away with this. It sets a bad example for mutants and makes us look worse in the public eye."

"And I said that it's not of my concern!"

Warren slapped his forehead. "But it _is_, Emma! You're the principal of Xaviers, you're supposed to be promoting mutant rights, equality and safety. How can you expect the public to view us as equals when we're robbing their banks?"

"The public doesn't know that they were mutants," she groaned with a lioness bellow.

"They'll find out! Fingerprints, hair follicules, anything. They'll trace it back to the Brotherhood – a mutant organization – and we'll still get the brunt of the blame because we're larger than they are. The public doesn't care _where_ the mutants came from. They only care that mutants were _behind it_, and where can they find mutants? The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning - that's where."

"And what can they do to us? Come in here with pitchforks and flaming torches demanding their money back? Even if I had it, I'd still curse them to the void," Emma retorted, eyes bulging.

"Are you seriously asking that? You're a mutant Emma, you know as well as I do that that's exactly what they'll do."

"The majority of my students are American citizens," Emma briefed, "they're all entitled to protection from the police as any members of the public are."

Warren - now more agitated than he had felt in a long time – grunted and then sighed. "That doesn't _matter_! If we had equal rights, there wouldn't be a school made entirely to raise mutants _outside_ of society."

"So what are you suggesting?" she barked.

"I suggest that we go to the Brotherhood and demand they return the money – anonomously if they want – so we don't get the police on our door-step with a search warrant."

"I said no!" she reiterated with rage. "I have two hundred students to take care of, a rebellious staff, and a handful of runaways and depression-cases in the student body. The last thing I need is the Brotherhood in my life."

"But Emma, the principal can't even be a councellor to any students. _We_ deal with the runaways and 'depression cases' and essientially, we deal with the two hundred students on a day to day basis. If there is some kind of staff revolt, it would be because the weight of this school lies on our shoulders. I mean, we still haven't located Joshua Foley and you keep refusing to help me – that's just one example."

"I've heard enough of this shit. Glad to know you have my back Warren, thanks. Now get the hell out," she spat, plopping herself on her chair, reminiscent to a bomb kissing the sandy surface of a desert.

"Don't just kick me out when you don't like what you hear," Warren replied duly, "You can go back on this – help me find Joshua. You're a telepath, Emma, you could find him."

"Out!" she roared, her eyes piercing the winged teacher. "Or I'll have you removed."

"By _who_?" he whispered to himself. "Please, loyal fans of Emma, one at a time." Warren stomped for the exit, opened the door, and made his final statement by slamming it; Emma moaned and shoved her face back into her hands, the length of her desk suddenly overwhelming her.

The telepath stood to her feet and stopped herself mid-movement. With a lunging arm and a gritty scream, she swiped everything off of her desk and allowed it to crash to the floor with with a rattly clatter. A bead of sweat formed itself on her forehead and she wiped it away before leaning against the wall beside her barren desk.

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"Y'were talkin' in yer sleep last night," said Ben to his roommate, as the morning light donated itself onto the floor of their dorm. Mark sat up and wiped his sleepy eyes. "Bull. No I didn't Scottsie. I never talk in my sleep."

Ben smiled. "Oh yes y'did, mate. Y'were mumblin' about a girl."

Mark redenned but feigned confidence as he tilted his head up. "No I wasn't, quit screwing with me."

"Ah promise, mate. Y'kept goin' on 'bout some girl with blonde hair, blue eyes, a white dress. What was 'er name again?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mark lied, building the foundations of false absolution through an unconvincing smile.

"Oh but y'do!" Ben cheered. "Y'were talkin' away right until y'woke up!"

"Lies, lies, lies!" Mark laughed, not wishing to hear the result of his sleeptalk. He placed his hands over his ears and sang. "La, La, La, La, La! I'm not listening!"

"_What beautiful blue eyes! Such silky blonde hair!" _Ben quoted with a wide, comical grin.

"La, La, La, La, La!"

"_You look like a statue that was carved just for me," _Ben broadcasted again, trying to fake Mark's voice while keeping himself together without bursting out laughing.

"La, La, La, Laaa!" Mark sang back, able to hear Ben's words but choosing not to react to them – or portray any indication that he could hear them in the slightest.

"_Your skin is like porcelain and your voice is that of a nightingale_."

"Okay, I did _not_ say that!" Mark interjected with a feigned look of disapproval, whilst he inhibited a snort.

"_Oh my darling, walk with me in eternity.. my beautiful.. Emma Frost_."

"Enough!" Mark guffawed, throwing is pillow at his roommate. Ben fell over himself laughing and ignited a further rouge to seep into Mark's cheeks. "Quit laughing!"

Ben was weak in his muscles and he continued to caw like a lunatic as he coughed and gasped for air during intervals of peace during the excessive mirth.

"Ah mean, mate, in all fairness, _'a statue that was carved just for me?_' Really? Ah mean, really?"

"Shut up, I can't control my dreams," Mark defended, Ben's snorts pulling a larger grin on his face. "Ah knew y'had a wee crush on Mrs. Frost but Ah didn' thaink y'were dreamin' 'bout 'er mate!" was Ben's reply, still trying to bolster his sentences so that they made sense amist his howls of laughter.

"I just happen to find her.. a little hot. That's all."

"A little? Y'were practically worshippin' th'woman!"

"No I wasn't! Quit making this harder for me."

"I'm not that one makin' things hard for ya mate, Ah thaink that's Mrs. Frost!" Ben fell over laughing again, and Mark sighed, resigning himself to his soporific mishap. Ben's joke made him laugh however, but he hid it behind the lesser-of-the-evils smile that separated his cheeks. "Oh Ha, ha. You're so funny, Ben," he stated monotonically.

"Thanks mate, ah do my best."

"Your best doesn't come close to mine," Mark responded with a wink.

"Of course – _yer_ best is reserved for Mrs. Frost."

Mark reddened. "Touché Scottsie. Touché."

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"Jay open up, it's Mr Worthington, I need to speak with you."

There was no answer to Warren's request for a solid thirty-seconds until the auburn haired student appeared from the other side of the door, looking sleepy and shabby.

"Is Joshua in there? I haven't seen him around the school in almost a week now," Warren asked and stated, unconfortable that he had just broken the promise he had made to himself; the promise he made in front of Emma when she demanded that he march straight up to Josh's room and demand a meeting. This was _Josh's_ sanctuary after all, and Warren knew what it was like to have no place to call your own, and thus appearing at the Foley refuge was the last thing the teacher wanted to do.

But here he was, interrogating the other being in Josh's sanctuary as he tried to gather information pertaining to the golden mutant's whereabouts.

"Have you seen him in the dorm in the past few days?" Warren asked flatly, as Jay ruffled the back of his head. "No Mr Worthington, I haven't. It's been some days now and he hasn't returned."

"Returned? What?"

"He left a few nights ago."

"And you said nothing?" Warren asked in disbelief. "You just carried on your life while knowing that your roommate was missing?"

"He isn't missing," stated Jay with a yawn. "He scurried away one night and I haven't heard from him since. I flew around the school grounds myself, but I failed to locate him."

"And it didn't occur to you to tell me?" Warren blustered, his eyes fixed on the disinterested Jay before they rolled to the backdrop of the room and zoned in on a picture of a brunette girl that sat upon Jay's bed.

"Why would I tell you?" Jay asked, stepping to the left to block Warren's view of the messy dorm behind. The angel-like teacher remembered that only he and Emma knew of his new role as Josh's counsellor.

"Well, perhaps not me, but anyone? Why didn't you tell anyone _at all_? A friend? Your counsellor? A staff member?" Warren questioned frantically. "Why are you acting so lax?"

Jay yawned and scratched his head once again. "My apologies if I'm coming across rude or indifferent. That isn't my intention. I haven't been well over the past few days."

Warren's eyes fell upon the picture on the bed once again, and Jay intervened with another shift of his body to block Warren's view.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Jay asked, pulling Warren's attention away from the dorm. "May I close the door now?"

"No, you may not," Warren stated, shoving his foot infront of the door to thwart any possible _fermir-le-porte. _"Were you not curious to why Josh was missing? Even though you were sick, you could've said something," Warren reprimanded, frustrated at Jay's lackadaisical demeanor.

"Josh is old enough to know what he is doing sans being followed and chased," replied Jay with excessive authority for someone in his position.

"I could've done something! I could've stopped him, if you told me!" Warren allowed his anger from Emma's outburst to fill him, and his lip raised before he snarled. "You're responsible for this, Jay. You could've stopped this! Instead, you've been locked up in this room all week doing God knows what."

"I'm simply following the school's policy, Mr. Worthington. I'm simply not chasing after a runaway."

"He's more than just a runaway, Jay, stop playing this game. He's broken, and he needs our help."

"A lot of us are broken," Jay stated, "and we are not offered such gracious help. In fact, this is the first time I've seen a teacher even notice the departure of a student, and despite this fact, it took almost a week for you to realize it."

"What's _wrong_ with you?" Warren asked with an exasperated tone to his voice. "Why are you acting like this?" His eyes fell, one last time, upon the picture on the bed, and Warren couldn't hold back from asking any longer. "Is it something to do with that picture?"

Jay silenced himself; his body froze and his countenance blanched - the student would've faded into the shadows of the room behind had Warren not had such good eyesight. "Well is it?" he asked again.

"Josh is old enough to make his own decisions," Jay reiterated.

"Answer my question. Is _she_ the reason why you acted so bizzarely in my English class?"

"Josh is old enough to make his own decisions. I suggest that you search elsewhere for him and spare me your scrutiny," Jay said again.

Their gazes froze momentarily, and both men exerted themselves via an optical standoff. Without even the movement of a pupil, they remained still until Jay's phone began to sing from behind.

"Excuse me," he said with a grumble that gave way to his suppressed Mid-Western accent. Warren nodded, and the teenager turned into his room and answered the phone.

"Hello?" he asked, only to be met with no reply other than a fuzzy, muffled sound. "Hello, who is this?" he asked again, becoming impatient with the shuffling on the other side. Just as he was about to hang up, the movement subsided and Jay could hear breathing.

"Hello? Who's there?" he asked one last time.

This time, there was a response, and Jay almost dropped the phone under Warren's scrutiny when it registered with him.

"It's Josh. I need your help."

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"I'm sorry Paras just please talk to me," Victor begged, wiping his forehead and making no efforts to quell the worry that beaded and watered in his eyes. He had been at Paras's side all day, apologizing for his acerbity the day before. But the violet-skinned mutant was having none of it: He sat there, staring blankly at the opposite wall as Victor practically fell on top of him with apologies and renounces that Paras had numbed himself to.

"Please Paras just talk to me. I'm so sorry for making you feel like you had to choose your religion over me. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that," Victor lamented, pushing away a tear of remourse that he had been holding back all day. "Please Paras, just please talk to me."

Paras remained quiet and appeared undeterred by the slavering and sniffling apologies from the person to his left. As a Jainist, he had become particularly talented at blocking his mind from external distractions when he contemplated, and thus he simply placed himself into this mode, and allowed Victors pleas to perish at the walls before his cognizance. He remained silent.

"Paras please, I'm begging you, just say something, man."

Paras transcended the need to blink and continued to glare at the wall, his mind empty and free from the outside sounds.

"Do you want me to leave?" Victor asked melodramatically, swiping another tear of which he denied to existence of. "Is that what you want?"

Silence, was Paras's harsh reply.

"Is that what you want?"

Again. Nothing.

"Answer me! I made a mistake and now I'm apologizing, could you say something?"

And finally, a sign of life: Paras turned his head like the eyes of an owl tracing the path of the moon, and he glared right at Victor before taking a faint breath and opening his mouth to speak.

"We are very different," he said, on the verge of a whisper. "Whether you believe this or not, it is the truth."

Victor – now a little wary of what he wished for – trembled as Paras spoke, feeling inferior to the point his roommate was bound to knock him to self-austerity with. Victor cleared his throat and chose words that kept him neutral, careful not to incriminate himself.

"And how is that?"

"We may be similar in our likes and dislikes, or our talents or faults, but there will always be one thing that separates us," replied Paras flatly.

Victor trembled again and swallowed his nerves with a conspicuous gulp. "And what's that?" he asked.

"That I embrace faith and you reject it. We look at our pasts differently. You remember your hardships and struggles and you deny the existence of a God, because he 'allowed this to happen to you.' However, I remember my hardships and struggles as obstacles that could've been worse had God not been part of my life."

Completely swayed towards indignation by Paras's response, Victor jumped for a hole in the statement immediately, and he leaned forward and pinned Paras with a look, of which no longer bolstered sadness nor regret, but confusion. "Both your parents died, Paras, how could it have been worse?"

Paras shuddered and whispered something in Hindi before he answered back. "_I_ could have died, but I did not," he stated. "I thank God and Ganesha everyday for protecting me that day and allowing me to live. Without my faith, I am certain that I would have perished also."

"So your parents weren't religious then?" Victor asked.

"Yes, they were. My father was well respected in our community."

"Then how can you say that God protected you and not your parents? Surely if they were loyal to your God then they would have been protected too," Victor questioned, forgetting that moments ago, he had been rolling over Paras in tears.

"God had a larger plan for them. You see Victor, this is how we're different. I can trust in what is beyond my sight, my senses. You cannot. You do not have faith in what is beyond your control and this is why you do not understand how remaining pure is so important to me. It is the difference between salvation and eternal demise," said Paras as if he was addressing an audience.

Victor shuddered at being addressed by his own name and not "Mahi," "Sohna," or "Sanam," or a name of the likes. Obdurate he remained, however, and the reptilian jumped to his own defense sans hesitation.

"Maybe I don't have faith," he claimed with a shrug. "But at least I don't let some deity - that might not be real – control my life."

"You do not understand me," Paras sighed with aggrivation. "Without God, there _is_ no life. This is the difference I spoke of earlier. As long as I have my faith and you have your absense of one, we will forever be two _sides_ of the same coin."

"So what does this mean?" Victor asked, feeling resignation seep through his body. "You want to end this?"

"I never said that," Paras replied duly, turning to face the wall once again. "That depends on you."

"What d'you mean it depends on me? I want us to be together – I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I was wrong to tease you, Sanam. That won't happen anymore," Paras replied arbitrarily, "But are you willing to stay with me despite my restrictions towards anything of the _sexual _nature?"

Victor hesitated. His mind flashed to him living in an unhappy relationship, where he and Paras would have grown so far apart and so distant, yet so reliant on each other that they would be doomed together, as well as doomed apart; there would be no opt-out clause as Victor would never go back on his word. If he made the commitment now, it would take his death to break it – as far as he was concerned.

"I understand if you cannot," Paras said, his countenance dropping. "Very few in this culture could live the way I do."

"It's a lot to ask, man. You've always been leniant in that department, but now you want to cut it out completely. It's just.. that's difficult."

"You need time. I understand," Paras replied with a forced smile. "Take your time, I am asking a lot of you."

"I don't need time," Victor concluded with zeal, as he realized that he was losing grip of Paras. "I want to be with you. I don't care if you never touch me again, I just want to be by your side – I need to be with you."

A dumbfounded Paras watched Victor in shock, his mouth dropping slightly as the latter professed his devotion to the former.

"You've helped me through everything," Victor stated, battling fear, embarrassment and reluctance as he spoke, "so I'm not going to let you go over a stupid kiss, or whatever. You're the first person I've ever trusted since.. since _you know_, so I refuse to let you think that I'm walking on this one, because I'm so far from it."

Paras remained open mouthed and gazed at Victor with raw shock painted on his face.

"You.. you wish to stay with me?" he asked, needing to hear it in plain words before he could accept it.

"I'll say it now, and I'll say it again and again: I'm not leaving you. Never could, never would."

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"Where are you?" Jay asked frantically, flicking his hair from his eyes. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

The shuffling ensued and Jay interjected with questions regarding general whereabouts before Josh answered again. "I'm in New York, and they're after me. Everybody's fucking after me."

"Jay, who is it?" Warren asked, taking the liberty to step into the room and bypass the picture on the bed. Jay waved him off and brought his concentration back to the phone.

"Who is chasing you, Josh?" he asked, emitting a yelp from Warren. The teacher leapt from his stance and began waving and swinging his arms in front of Jay, trying to get his attention while mouthing 'put me on the phone.'

"Everybody," Josh replied, in the interval of another shuffling sound.

"What is that cacophony in the background?" Jay asked with unhidden concern.

"I'm running now, I can't speak forever. I need you to come get me. I'm really screwed."

"Stay calm," Jay cooed with a soothing voice, despite the frantic Warren who jumped and leaped around him.

"Who is chasing you?" Jay reiterated.

"Anybody who's seen my skin. That blonde girl – Laurie? She was right. Even the most normal people want me dead."

"The public is too hazardous for people retaining physical mutations, Josh. You should never have run away. Where in the city are you?"

After another shuffle and the sound of a few desperate pants, Josh responded. "Meet me on East 42nd St, outside the Chrysler building. I can keep my hood up and blend in with the crowds there."

"Good idea. I'll leave immediately. Stay safe and call me if anything changes."

Without a goodbye, Jay was met with a long intake of air and the two beeps denoting the end call; when it was apparent that the conversation was over, Warren stomped angrily and swung his arms to his sides.

"What the _hell_ was that? I wanted to speak with him!" Warren barked, his eyebrows knitted. "What did he say? Where is he? Is he okay?"

Jay scoffed and turned away from his authority, and immediately opened one of the drawers and withdrew a bagpack.

"What're you doing with that?" questioned Warren, who was at the zenith of frustration and agitation. "Where is Josh? _Answer_ me!"

After packing some bottles of water in the bag, a blanket, and a change of clothes, Jay turned to face Warren, his expression expressing no levity or mirth. Only severity.

"I suggest you listen to me, Mr Worthington. Josh is in trouble and I am going to find him. I know where he is and he says he is okay for now. I must leave immediately, but If I am not back by 8pm, then you may fly to New York and find me."

Warren's face went a little white, and his mouth bobbed as his eyes remained wide. "B..but.. New York? What? No, I'm going with you!"

"No you're not. With respect sir, Josh trusts _me_. Not you."

"_I_ am the staff member here , I suggest you remember that. I will be going to find him. _You_ will stay here, do you understand me?" Warren snapped, excessively angered by Jay's temerity.

"I doubt that will happen, sir," said Jay with inappropriate ease. "You do not know where in New York I am to meet him. You need me with you."

Warren almost burst from himself in anger, and the teacher shook his fists in a way reminiscent to Emma, who he now found himself empathizing with.

"Using leverage upon a staff member is against the rules, Mr Guthrie. I suggest you stop this game and give me his location," Warren said, erecting a pretense of tranquility that fooled no-one. "Tell me, now."

"No. I will go with you."

"You will do no such thing!" roared Warren, no longer able to rein the vexation; he was not used to drawing the short stick during compromises, nor was he accustomed to losing a mind game nor being trounced by someone else's rhetoric. He was, by many standards, at the mercy of Jay Guthrie. A student, and someone lower than him on the hierarchy of any school. Something about this was all wrong to Warren.

But he could have it both ways: He could bring Jay along and then reprimand him upon return. Okay, maybe that's not entirely in Warren's favor, but at least it would show the auburn haired student that resisting authority isn't something he's going to get away with. Warren feigned a smile amongst the shattered ambience, in light of his outburst.

"Fine. We'll both go. You'll stay ahead and direct me and we'll find Josh together. Deal?"

Jay took a breath. "Deal." He removed his shirt and unleashed his wings before he swung the bag over his shoulders. "We have to go _now_."

He opened the window and leapt out of it and Warren wondered how he did it with such ease, before he then realized that the student had obviously done it before. As Jay hovered in the sky, he looked back towards the window and waved an arm at Warren.

"Come on Mr. Worthington, I'm not wasting any more time!"

His voice had become so authoritive that it shot Warren back to that feeling of being chided by an Elementary school teacher.

Jay turned around and glided into the sky, leaving his word behind him.

The sky was now dotted with wispy pink fleks of clouds, and as Jay advanced into the horizon,

Warren heeled.


	12. Cut The Source, Bleed the Fibers

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Left at the end of East 30th street.

Sprint down 3rd Avenue.

Take a left at East 40th St.

Another right at Lexington Avenue.

Wait at the conjunction of East 42nd St and Lexington Avenue.

These were the directions that Josh repeated to himself over and over. He had only minutes to memorize the map on the screen of a chunky computer inside an internet café. Other than those crucial minutes he took to commit the map to memory, he was spotted almost immediately and was chased out.

The rain rattled against his hooded raincoat as he sprinted down the grim, teary sidewalks of East 30th St. His shoes parted the puddles as he eluded down the street, and every time he landed in a puddle that was ankle-deep, he cursed indignantly to himself. The prosaic terraced houses that created the street itself, watched him carefully with square eyes that bled raindrops of their own. And as Josh turned onto 3rd Avenue, he thought he could hear those same voices from behind: The same voices that caused his stomach to drop and his heart to pound.

A week had past since Jay had helped him discover his powers, and in that week, Josh felt scarred and numbed by his experiences in the city. His skin was the obvious disabler of his discretion, and despite every attempt at hiding it – be it with the use of paint, cloaks, hoods or isolation – Josh could never fully rid himself of the marble-like gold that encompassed his skin.

"Come on Jay, get here fast," he panted grittily to himself.

It had been an hour or so since he had spoken to the winged mutant and Josh was now wasting time in a way that resembled a soccer team that knew it was winning in the last 5 minutes of the game. He just needed to waste time, and remain safe as he did so.

He had lost his pursuers when he entered the internet café, but after he was spotted there too, he was conveniently chased closer to his meeting point with Jay. As close as he was, a single step sans being noticed was a blessing - never mind a few whole streets - so Josh inhibited all forms of optimism. Besides, optimism and Josh hadn't quite seen each other in some time.

A taxi-driver beeped at the car in front, and Josh almost jumped out of his cursed skin. When he passed an electronic shop and heard the sounds from the televisions inside, he jumped again and he had to take a moment to calm himself down.

"Damn, Josh. Calm down."

The distant city sirens and the clicks and taps of the rain upon the pavement unnerved the mutant, and a little part of him looked forward to being back in the dorm that he had once dismissed as a prison.

The last time he had been there, he had knocked himself unconscious and unknowingly flicked the domino that led him to his realization of his powers. It felt so long ago, but that was due to the enormity of the week and everything he had been through.

After realizing his powers and seeing Jay's, Josh had suffered from a moment of utter, blind confusion. He had developed the power to heal – an ability that could change the lives of many people. And his roommate Jay had been blessed with wings of a divine caliber. These facts were directly paradoxical to the teachings of Blair, who had told Josh that there was no beauty to mutants: They were all beastly, self-serving animals that sought power and triumph. When Josh momentarily questioned the credentials of Blair – the man who had single-handedly constructed the foundations of the teenager's beliefs – his mind shuffled and he was left with only two answers:

Either what he was seeing wasn't real,

or Blair was wrong.

And the latter could not be the case. Thus, left with only one choice, Josh exploded with fear and shock and he thought that his powers, and Jay's wings, were illusions planted by the trickery of a telepath.

The rain crackled and burst against the scarred city gravel, and Josh could feel his wet fringe sop against his forehead as he continued to run through the streets and trudge through urban streams of water that trickled alongside the footpaths.

He had become accustomed to the elements. Being outside for a week-straight had toughened him against the harsh bites of the wind, and the dusky nips of the frost. He had pondered earlier in the week as to whether the city was colder or warmer than Salem Center. Salem had felt colder, but he attributed that to the fact he had not yet become immune to harsh weather. Or perhaps they were the same, but New York retained more city heat and humidity than its rural counterpart. Either way, he was outside in the rain and cold, and he couldn't wait to be inside somewhere.

"Lexington Avenue," Josh panted again, saying the name as if it were a friend he had not seen in years.

He had to keep running. He was so close to his arranged meeting place with Jay, and so to get caught by a pursuer now, would be a tease to the hope he had allowed himself to feel. He had been hunted by the most mundane people; the woman with the baby in the pram, or one of those builders on the construction sites dotted across the city – these were the types of people that chased the teenager through the narrow alleys and tunnels of the city. He couldn't believe how it was the most common standard of people who wished to see him dead. Was his existence such a problem to them?

Eschewing his thoughts as Blair's ropes swung the bell of sobriety in his head, Josh came to the end of Lexington Avenue and stared left and right as he was faced with a fork in the street.

"Left or right?" he asked himself, trying to remember the directions that he had memorized.

"Why did I choose such a hard street to find?" he cursed to himself, flicking his head to his derriere to verify his safety. He looked up, and peaking above the ladder-ridden, blocked apartments was the Chrysler Building. It looked down upon him with an almost heavenly glare, and Josh smiled as he realized why he had chosen that street.

"I can just follow Chrysler," he said with a sigh of relief, remembering that Chrysler was just off East 42nd. With a brisk dash, he advanced to the left and followed the plated peak of Chrysler as if it were the North Star. He twisted and turned around each block as he met their ends, until finally, he was at the base of Chrysler itself. He looked up at it with a gracious smile, before he leaned against the black marble of its normally unseen base.

His head still low, he allowed the rain – which had now turned into a drizzle – to pour over his hooded neck and down over his shoulders; he liked the feeling the movement had on them due to the heaviness they had been carrying over the week.

The drizzle softly fell around him, and looking up slowly, he saw that it gently grazed the street poles and the black marble behind him, causing the street to shine amidst the greyness.

He smiled to himself and tilted his head back down. "Any time now Jay," he whispered to himself, hunching his shoulders closer to his neck to generate heat.

As he stood facing down, he heard the puddles a few yards down the pavement splash and he tilted his head lower. He heard the clops of high heels against the ground, and when they stopped before him, Josh shuddered.

"Excuse me sir," said an urban voice. "Do you have the time?"

"No," he said, not looking up as a pause befell them both. Suddenly his phone rang, and he peered down at his vibrating pocket before he reached for it and pulled out his device. Without thinking, he lifted his face as he tucked the phone into his ear.

"Jay. Where are you?" he asked, momentarily oblivious to the woman in front of him.

"I'm over the city now. Where on the street are you?"

"Underneath Chrysler," he replied duly, unaware of the horror and shock painted on the face before him. "Get here as soon as you can."

"I will Josh. Hang in ther-"

"You're a mutant!" bellowed the woman with a howl of aghast. Josh's eyes flicked upwards, and his ears filled with questions from Jay as to what the interruption was.

"Please, keep your voice down," Josh pleaded the woman, clicking the red button on his phone. "I'll be out of here in two seconds and you'll never see me again."

The woman's expression was tainted by her horrified reaction to the teenager in front of her, and her countenance scrunched as she peered closely at him. "My mother," she growled, taking a step away from Josh. "My mother was working at a bank in Salem Center when you animals put a gun to her head and demanded that she empty the vaults."

Josh shuddered. He had to think fast despite his confusion. What bank? What was she talking about?

"Listen, lady, I'm sorry – I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't been to any bank in weeks. Do I look like I'd have millions of dollars to spend?"

"Yes, yes you do!" she accused, her eyes popping with realization. "You're Joshua Foley aren't you? The son of the Foley family!"

"H.. how do you know me?" he asked, pictures of Blair and the organization seeping into his cognizance.

"Everybody knows you," she snarled. "The son of one of the wealthiest families in America becomes a mutant! It's been on the radio and television."

"It _has_?" he gasped, feeling his legs shudder with panic. "Look, please! I don't know who you are, but as you said, I'm the son of _the_ Foley's.. why would I be in a bank?"

"Well I thought you just said you were poor?" she growled, rummaging in her bag with one hand. "You mutants lie about everything. You'll change the stories and the facts to make yourselves look innocent. It's obvious what you want to do. You want to take over this entire city, don't you?"

"What? No! Please lady, just keep walking and you'll never see me again. Can you just do that?"

An ominous expression befell the woman and she stopped searching through her bag. "No. I won't let you hurt another person," she exclaimed shakily, under her breath. "This ends now."

From over the rim of her handbag, the woman pulled out a small pistol and aimed it at Josh with a grimacing grin. "Agnes Maddox. That's my mother's name. I want you to say it."

"What are you talking about?" Josh wailed, more shocked by her hostility rather than by the fact she pointed a gun at him.

"My mother is living in fear after what you people did to her! I want you to say her name."

"I've been in _New York_," Josh pointed out, almost shaking her by the shoulders with his words. "I have no idea about a bank in Salem Center!"

"Why do you keep _lying_?" she gasped, taking a step closer. Josh looked around: The street was empty due to the rain, and he looked in all directions for someone to could call out to.

The woman seemed delusional, like most of the people in the city who chased him, and Josh swallowed his pride as he looked up at her with feigned remorse. "Agnes Maddox," he said, tilting his head down with resignation. "Agnes Maddox. Are you happy now?"

"You're not fooling me," she barked, gripping tighter to the handle of the gun. "I know when someone fakes sorrow!"

Now impatient, Josh looked up again. "Look _bitch_. I have no idea who you are, or where you came from, so leave me the hell alone and go back to your loony bin. Ok?"

"You filthy, rotten, putrid little pig!" she roared, tapping on the trigger, before being interrupted by a calling from above.

"Josh! Is that you?" Jay called, descending towards the ground.

"Jay, no! Fly away! Get back! She has a gun!"

In what felt like a split-second, the woman turned around and shot at Jay from where she stood. Josh bellowed and Jay spiraled to the floor like a burning aircraft. He smashed into the gravel and Josh shoved past the woman and ran to his aid. Warren landed almost seconds later, and he scanned the zone around him before flying to Jay also. The auburn haired student gasped for breath through the metallic pain in his chest, and he looked up at Josh, who flumbled above him, unsure as to what he should do. The golden mutant paused and seemed to pull himself together before he peered down at Jay again. As he prepared to pull himself into the mind-set needed to heal, the fleshy wound on his roommate's chest began to seal itself up, and color immediately began to drip back into his face.

Josh froze.

"You.. You're a healer?" he asked with awe and aghast, his hands stopping mid-preparation.

Jay coughed and smiled faintly. "Forgive me. I forgot to mention it," he said.

Josh gazed at him wide-eyed. "You.. you're like me?" he asked, almost drooling due his mouth being open for such a lengthy period.

Jay half-smiled and inhaled a shaky breath, "You could say that, yes."

Meanwhile, the woman stood against the black marble of Chrysler, her arms shaking and her mouth open.

Warren looked at her and assumed what had taken place. "Look what you've done!" he called out, moving to the side and allowing her to look at Jay. "Is this what you people want? To kill us all?"

"N..no.. I.. I.. I didn't mean to.."

"What do you _mean_ you didn't mean to?" Warren barked back, standing up and approaching her. "He's eighteen years old and he's been shot by a middle-aged woman who seems to have rather impeccable aim with her handgun." His eyes squinted and he snarled at her. "Who do you think had the advantage here? Your murderous attempts are clear!"

"I'm no murderer!" she exclaimed, pointing the gun at Warren, her arms shaking.

"Oh no?" he snapped, tilting his gaze. "Well who's the one pointing the gun?"

"No!" Her trembling fingers danced with the trigger again, and as a second gunshot was heard by Josh, who was at Jay's side, Warren tackled the woman to the floor, and allowed the bullet to whistle through the gap between his ear and his shoulder. They both landed with a crash and Warren's heed was momentarily knocked from his immediate consciousness.

When he realized that the tar was on par with his eye-level, Warren flicked himself from the woman, before he felt something thick and wet on his hands. He looked down, and saw his palms tainted with a malicious smear of blood, and he immediately lowered himself to the woman and examined her rouged head.

"No, no, no," he shrieked, checking her pulse. "No, no. Please, don't do this."

"What's wrong?" Josh called, helping Jay to his feet.

Warren continued to examine the woman and when he could no longer convince himself that she was alive, he plopped his head on her side and moaned.

"You killed her?" Jay asked, turning to Josh with a look that punctuated the _'could you do something about it?'_ that hung between them.

Josh nodded, and took a step towards the woman and Warren. "I can heal things," he said with uncertainty. Warren looked relieved for a moment before his countenance dropped once again. "Can you resurrect the dead?" he asked sarcastically, turning back towards the woman. Josh nodded in the negative before shuddering as Jay placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "What're we going to do?" he asked.

A silence befell the ambience before Warren unexpectedly broke it with a sorrowful sniff.  
"We _have_ to leave. This was an accident. She tried to shoot me!"

"Who are you convincing?" Josh asked, antipathy imbuing his words. Jay nudged him gently, and he sank back into himself. Warren stood to his feet with a groan and the three stood together in the rain for a moment as they decided on what to do.

"We need to go," Warren reiterated, indicating to the teenagers that he was ready to ascend as he stretched out his wings.

"You do not wish to even learn her name?" Jay asked.

"No. Lets go."

Jay frowned in Josh's direction before Warren flew into the air and wisped away into the thick clouds above.

"Why would he want to know her name?" Josh asked.

"If I killed someone," Jay replied somberly, "I'd wish to know her name." He ambled to the body and ruffled through the wallet that he had managed to find in her handbag, before he found a drivers license.

"Paddy Parsons," he intoned darkly, before turning back to Josh. "Her name is Paddy Parsons."

Josh shuddered, unsure as to what to reply, and thus he remained quiet as Jay neatly slid the wallet back into the woman's bag.

"It's time for us to leave," he remarked, standing to his feet. "We'll be flying, so I'll have to carry you. Is that okay with you? I don't wish to touch you without your permission."

Josh sighed and tensed himself in preparation. "If it gets me out of here, then fine. Let's go."

With that, Josh was lifted into the air and the two teenagers wisped into the clouds, with Warren a distance speck in the horizon.

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"Josh is back!" whispered Dallas Gibson, staring out the window at the descending angels who carried a golden figure.

"Did he even go anywhere?" asked Andrea Marguiles.

"Yeah!" replied Dallas, "he disappeared for a week and nobody knew where he was."

Andrea hushed, and a different voice broke out from behind.

"Is that Josh?" asked Carl Aalston, his voice attracting others from the hallway behind.

"Someone saw Josh?" asked Roxy Washington.

"He hasn't been in English in _days_," commented Brian Cruz.

As Laurie advanced down the hall, she spotted a group of gathering students around a window, and her brows knitted a she went to investigate.

"What's going on?" she asked, receiving a few looks from the students in the group.

"Joshua Foley's back. Looks like they went and found him," said Christine Cord, a student at the other side of the group.

"He's _back_?" Laurie gasped, "What do you mean? When did he even _leave_?"

"Don't know," replied Christine, bringing her gaze towards Josh, Jay and Warren whom entered the left wing of the school. "But he stopped coming to classes and most of us just assumed he'd left. After his outbursts though, it was almost expected."

An opened mouthed Laurie stared back, her mind fuzzed with a haze of concern that reminded her of the promise she'd made herself all those years ago, where she swore she'd never lose another person in her life. Whether it was an acquaintance in the hallway, or someone as close as her mother, Ben or Noriko, she'd never lose someone again. And as she watched Christine's mouth move up and down, her mind dabbled in the idea that she had almost failed herself. What if anything had happened to Josh? He would join her father on the list of people who Laurie felt she _could_ have saved.

"Laurie, are you ok?" asked Christine, with a tilted head.

Laurie jerked. "Fine. Sorry, Christine. Thanks for filling me in."

With a nod, she scurried down the hall, her mind filled with shock, guilt and worry and she approached the other side of the school where Warren, Jay and Josh were located. As the pictures on the walls sped past her peripheral vision, Laurie had to stop herself from breaking into a run, or dropping her books to lighten the load. Her clomping heels upon the floor were reflective of the anger and confusion that began to seep into her. How could Josh have been so careless? Did he not care that she'd live with the burden of his loss?

Laurie stopped herself.

"He has no idea," she said to herself.

Albeit, he knew that she was trying to be nice to him, but perhaps Josh knew not of the extent of Laurie's feelings of responsibility towards him. If anything had happened to Josh – or _anyone else_, for that matter - she would blame herself. That was just the person Laurie was. She abhorred loss, so instead of harboring hatred for the feeling, she had decided to reduce it as much as she could through her life, after he father had died.

She pushed the double doors open with a mighty push, and as her view was arrested by Joshua Foley himself, who stood under the scorning finger of Emma Frost, Laurie yelped and pulled the gazes of Emma, Josh, Jay and Warren her way.

Her hair had cleaved into her neck, and her arms supported the four books that were pressed against her pelvis as she panted through a lachrymose expression.

"How could you do this?" Laurie barked, with an inflection of overexertion. Emma raised an eyebrow, and Warren and Jay looked at each other in bewilderment, as if to ask _"is she speaking to you?"_

"Are you okay, Ms. Collins?" asked Emma, her eyes scrutinizing Laurie in a way that painted her in an even more ridiculous light. Laurie stuttered in response, feeling inferior to the four sets of eyes that squinted at her.

"I'd like to speak with Josh," she replied, as calmly as she could, skulking her feet in a slovenly manner. She looked up and glanced at Josh, who was glaring at her bewilderedly. His hair seemed darker than before, and the teenager's golden face illustrated a worn expression – one of which told many stories of which Laurie wanted to hear about. She flicked her head back down as she waited for a response.

She was not met by one, and instead, was escorted out behind the double doors by a sullen Josh. They waited for the large oak panes to close fully before Josh spoke first.

"What do you want?" he groaned, flicking his hair from his face and penetrating Laurie with those thick, severe blue eyes.

"I want an explanation," she demanded indignantly, engendering Josh to cock his head to the side. "You left without any explanation! You could've gotten yourself killed!"

The golden teenager continued to eye his fellow student, in a way that stupefied Laurie to whether she was the cause of a seed of anger, or the source of an unexpected mirth on Josh's behalf.

"Why would you care?" he asked with a curious half smile, one of which painted the boundary of his humor very close to that of his anger.

Laurie shuffled under the eye-contact and filed through her brain for an excuse that didn't utterly expose her psyche or make her seem like an obsessed fan girl. She stopped, cleared her throat, and forced a smile.

"Because I'd.." she sang, with a tone of uncertainty,

"You'd..?"

"I'd lose my bet!" she blurted out angrily, mentally walloping herself in a way that resembled a doctor slapping a newborn child.

Josh's lip curled slightly and it was evident that she had put the nail into the coffin of their conversation. "Your _bet_? You had a _bet_ whether I'd get hurt?" he spat, apparently not wishing to hear the answer, as he turned around and exited, whilst leaving Laurie to blubber over her untactful response and panic over a way to mend the implications of her words.

"Well done Laurie," she said to herself, simultaneous to a slap of her head. "Why can't you think straight when talking to him?" She huffed and allowed herself to deflate as she wiped her forehead. She was doing the right thing though, right? She was trying to give him a cause, wasn't she? That was the purpose of her investment of time in him, was it not? She momentarily lost the nature of her actions and Laurie asked herself why she was so determined to help Josh in the first place.

"To make sure he _doesn't_ leave," she whispered to herself, her eyes fixed upon the floor.

"I already left," replied Josh, who had walked back through the doors, failing to break Laurie from her pensive moment of critical reflection.

Laurie jumped from her thoughts and her eyes darted all around the room to pin-point the source of the voice. Her gaze fell upon Josh, and she felt a fusion of embarrassment and rage seep into her. It was a strange emotion, to say the least, and Laurie couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable and she imagined how her face must've been contorting as the two feelings bounced inside her diaphragm.

"Don't creep up on me!" she shouted, groaning inwardly again as she trampled harder and harder upon the '_he needs a cause to stay,_' ethos that she had committed herself to. "I mean, sorry, I'm just.. It's been a long day."

Josh huffed. "I can see that. Look," he groaned, at a tone that was surprisingly more firm and less intimidating than what Laurie was used to, "I don't know you. You don't know me. But for some reason, whenever I'm in this school, you come running up to me as if you _do_ know me. Is there some reason for that?"

Laurie swayed awkwardly. The truthful reply to his question seemed very appealing to blurt out, but Laurie did her best to hold it back and to fabricate a different reason.

"I'm just a _nice person_," she cawed, her askew expression reading out her inner conflict as she literally slapped her head against a table within the walls of her mind.

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Riiight. Look Lauren,"

"Laurie," she corrected, remembering that this was the second time she had corrected him since they had met.

".. Laurie. I'm going to say this once, and I'm not going to say it again. Unless you have some great reason for annoying me, can you just leave me alone? You don't know me, and you have no reason to want to know me, so can you _back off_?"

Taking his request to heart, Laurie felt his words pierce through her until she pulled herself together, renting her earlier anger to allow her to do so.

"I'm so done with you!" she barked, dropping her books to the floor. Josh took a step back and eyed Laurie suspiciously, mostly undeterred by and apathetic to her outburst.

"You want a reason?" she continued, "I'll give you a reason! I felt responsible for you! There, now you know."

"_Responsible _for me?" Josh laughed sarcastically. "Lauren, what are you talking about?"

"My name is _Laurie_!" she roared back, with a stomp of the foot and a swipe of her fringe. "I felt responsible if anything happened to you, and then you ran off and tried to get yourself killed and I only found out about it thirty minutes ago!"

Josh cocked his head, now-affected by Laurie's admission. "Why would you feel responsible for me?" he asked back, indignation in his voice. "You don't even know me?"

"I don't _need _to know you!" she shot back, "I just felt like it was my duty to keep you safe. I'd be the same for any new student."

"I'm not the only new student," he replied with a growl. "Why me?"

"I.. it just kind of happened!" she defended, waving her hands outwardly as if to express that she had nothing to hide.

"And do you really think _you_ could get me to stay?" he asked with an acrimonious snort.

"I wanted to be a friend," she admitted, "I wanted to be the reason for you to stay _here_ and away from trouble. I was scared you'd leave and get yourself hurt."

"I _did_ leave, and I _did_ get myself hurt," he replied, no less acerbic than before. "You're a pathetic cause, Lauren."

"Oh you leaving is _my_ fault?" she snorted, rolling her eyes with disbelief. "I really can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Well you can stop trying," Josh replied, "because I've seen what it's like out there and so I won't be leaving any time soon. My _cause_ to stay is that I don't want to be hunted forever in the public."

"Let them hunt you," she grunted dismissively. "I shouldn't have wasted my sweat on you."

"Finally we can agree on something," he barked back, before snarling and pushing open the doors and leaving Laurie to the company of her seething anger.

She was now, quite frankly, beside herself.

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"You _what_?" Emma roared, her hand over her mouth as Warren informed her of the happenings in New York.

"It was an accident," he cried back, wiping his forehead. "She shot Jay, and then she tried to shoot me too. I tackled her to the ground and she must've hit her head."

"_Why_ did you tackle her?" Emma seethed.

"Because she had a gun!" he reminded.

"You were with two _healers_, Warren! Even if she shot you, you were in safe hands!"

"I didn't know Josh was a healer!" he disavowed, waving his hands with frustration. "And Jay can only heal himself. All I knew is that she had a gun and she aimed it at us and I acted as anyone would have."

"Bullshit," she snapped, her voice raucous and piercing. "You were angry at our row this morning and you took it out on her."

"Now _you're_ speaking the bullshit," Warren groused, his knuckles whitening. "She had a _gun_. It was self defense!"

"Well you'd hardly admit to it, Warren! Say that one to the police when they come to the door. New York is filled with cameras – they're going to find you," replied Emma somberly.

"Oh, and what will _you_ tell them?" Warren asked, his eyes unexpectedly rouging. "Will you allow them to take me? You know the law discriminates against us. Any excuse to throw me in jail and they will, and you know what happens to mutants in jails, Emma."

"You should have thought of that before you killed an innocent woman," she replied.

"I suppose our definitions of _innocent _are different," he growled. "What's it going to be then? Are you going to vouch for me, or let them take me?"

"I wasn't there," she said, removing herself from the situation, much to Warren's dismay.

"This isn't a time to play judge," Warren shrieked, "The police _will_ come for me, and you – the principal of this school – can shun them off with one vouch."

Emma remained silent.

"So what's it going to be?" Warren asked with a sniff. "Are you going to let them take me?"

"You killed a woman," she replied, looking down, with a worrying resignation influencing the tone of her voice. "If I act on my loyalties, then the same will be expected of me in the future. Justice has to be served, Warren. How can we set an example for our students, when our very staff is going around killing innocent people?"

"She had a _gun_!" Warren erupted, "It was self defense Emma. _Self defense! _This is me, _Warren _you're talking to!"

"An example has to be made," she replied monotonically, not daring to look up at Warren.

Warren froze. Was this a dream? Was he hearing what he was hearing? Was this the Emma he once knew?

"What happened to you?" he asked shakily, swiping an acerbic tear from his eye.

"Disloyalty," she replied with a grim tone. "My staff are planning to overthrow me and I can't risk you being part of it. You're too high in my ranks to risk, Warren, I'm sorry."

Warren's eyes fixed themselves upon Emma and he watched her in disbelief, his heart palpitating through his chest. "You think I want to see you gone?" he asked with utter shock. "You think I'm the enemy?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're willing to let me die in prison because you think I'll betray you?" he asked, needing to hear it for himself.

"_Justice_ must be served," she replied, "I'm setting an example for my students. If I happen to weed out a traitor as I do so, then that's two birds with one stone."

"Don't use the students as a front for your paranoia!" Warren bellowed. Emma stood to her feet.

"My interests are _always_ with the wellbeing of the students!" she shouted, her arms trembling. "I can't risk anarchy in this school."

"No," he replied calmly, her resignation spreading to him. "The only wellbeing you look after is your _own_. And there's _already_ anarchy in this school. You're a tyrant Emma, nothing more."

She sat down.

"Save it for the police," she grumbled with a dismissive wave. "Good-bye Warren."

Warren remained blank with disbelief before he mustered the nerve to reply. His fists trembled and the rush of blood to his head numbed his feet before he spoke.

"Goodbye Emma," he said. "But only for now."


	13. Mrs Henry Lafayette Dubose

Chapter 13! Just wanted to say thank you for all the kind reviews and messages. I really, really appreciate them. This Chapter is named after one of my favorite underrated characters in any novel of the last 100 years. You may recognize Henry Lafayette Dubose as the lady in "To Kill a Mocking Bird" that acts like a terror to Scout and Jem. In reality, she acts like this due to something she's going through. There's a character in this story that is in a similar situation.

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"You can tell me," Jay said, addressing the golden healer from his bed on the other side of the room. "Apprise me of what took place."

The sun had drawn itself across the sky, scarring it with wisps and ripples of pink and violet cottony auroras, and Josh had never been happier to see the night ensconce itself so rapidly upon his return, as it caused the busy halls to donate its population to the dorms. After being lectured by Emma Frost and Warren, and being publically disgraced by Laurie, Josh had never welcomed being pulled into his room more, than when Jay grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the dorm _Tom and Jerry_ style. The winged mutant apparently wished to be enlightened of 'everything' that had taken place, and he stated this in a way that made Josh feel as if the auburn haired student was expecting a tooth-pulling session where he'd have to gently pry him for an account of the happenings in New York. In reality, Josh was ready to spill the events of the week under the condition that he would only have to explain it once and wasn't expected to repeat it to every teacher or student who asked.

"It was hell," replied Josh truthfully, wiping his forehead. "I left after that.. incident.. in that fort..that place you brought me.. "

"The fairy fort? When you healed Azura?" asked Jay, tilting his head. Josh nodded. "Yeah. I needed to get away. Luckily, my wallet was in my back pocket when we left for the fairy fort, so I could afford the bus to the city."

Jay tilted his head. "And why did you decide to go to the city?" he asked. The severity in Jay's eyes told Josh that his roommate was restraining himself from bursting into a frenzy of questions and demands.

"Life," responded Josh flatly. "I needed to see life – Humans, business, movement. Anything."

"Then what went wrong?" asked Jay, his expression feigning ease.

"Everything. Everybody in that city hated me. It's like I was carrying some disease and they needed kill me or something. Even the most normal people would chase me because I was me."

Jay caught the '_me,'_ and the '_as if I was diseased,' _parts to Josh's sentence, and he momentarily pondered whether the mutant had accepted himself despite his powers, skin and mutation.

"Now you know what we must endure every day," Jay remarked, a brief expression of regret befalling him. "This is what we mutants must live with."

"I'm not one of you," Josh replied slowly, his eyes locking to Jay's. The auburn haired student felt a drop in his stomach and he asked himself how Josh still couldn't empathize with mutants despite the fact he'd seen the prejudice and hostility that existed in the public.

"If you still hate us, then why are you sitting here with _me_?" Jay asked, pinning Josh with his eyes, which he purposely held to him, so that not a single iota of body language would not go unnoticed. A brief pause surrounded them, but was broken by Josh.

"When I was gone," he sighed. "I realized that if you didn't do what you did back in the fairy fort, I would never have realized the _one_ good thing that came from this _mutation_."

"And what is that?" Jay asked incredulously.

"That I can heal. At least I can do something of some good," he replied, looking at his hands. "I guess I'm talking to you like this because I..I guess I.. don't think of you like the others."

Jay lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head. "What do you mean?" he asked, propping himself up against the wall.

Josh sighed. He tried to think of a way to explain what he thought through the use of an example, so he flicked through his mind like an office clerk to a file, but his efforts proved relatively futile. "When I think of Warren, or Laurie, or that flaming guy, I feel the way I did when I first got here – as if they're _mutants_," he explained, doing his best to guide Jay towards a level of comprehension rather than confusion.

"Which they are," Jay interjected, feeling confused as to the point Josh was making.

"And there's the problem. They're mutants," Josh sighed, descending his head so that his bangs were at level to Jay's eyes. "They'll forever be mutants and I can't be comfortable around them just because I share a trait with them. There's more to mutants than powers, you know. They're known for being sneaky, deceitful and power hungry."

Jay rolled his eyes, suppressing his minor aggravation and confusion towards Josh's lack of empathy or clarity. "But you're a mutant," Jay emphasized, his eyes sizzling Josh.

"Maybe on the outside, but not on the inside," Josh replied with a sigh.

"Josh," Jay groaned back. "These stigmas you've attached to mutants are the same stigmas attached by those people that tried to kill you. They don't exist. They are simply propagandas and misleading. They are extra reasons to despise the mutant race."

"I don't blame them for trying to kill me," Josh replied, much to Jay's chagrin. "I blame them for attacking me when I wasn't doing any harm."

"Mutants are killed every day in the public _even_ when they do no harm. Josh," Jay sighed again, taking a deeper breath to quell the need to shake the boy by the shoulders, "you may not view me as a mutant, but I am one as much as Warren, Laurie, Beast or Emma is. You can justify this communication by detaching me from that word, but in reality, it is what I am – who I am."

"You're _different_," Josh overwrote, unsure whether he was addressing himself or Jay. "I just can't think of you as one of them. You're _not_ one of them."

Jay conceded and slouched into his bed. If it made Josh feel better that Jay was like him – a non-mutant trapped in a mutant's body – then so be it. Jay knew that Josh needed someone who could put opinions and beliefs aside, as Josh was not going to change by having pro-mutant perspectives shoved down his throat. Jay mused that the teenager needed to learn for himself, that mutants are the victims of society, not the predators. Although Jay was still taken slightly aback that Josh didn't fully grasp this during his time in the city, he could see that denial was playing a lead role in this play of selective hatred.

"Think of me as you wish," Jay replied conversely, his voice fettered to resignation. "If it helps you settle in, then perhaps it is for the best." Josh looked down, blinked at his lap and brought his gaze back up.

"I guess I owe you twice then," Josh intoned with a hint of regret. Jay tilted his head and squinted his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I owe you for coming to get me," the healer replied, shifting his eyes uncomfortably from his roommate's countenance. "I can't really say anyone else would've thought twice about leaving me out there."

Jay smiled momentarily and fixed his posture, slightly touched by Josh's apprehensive attempt at being grateful. "You owe me nothing, Josh. If you seek someone to thank, thank yourself," he advised. "If you hadn't phoned me, there would've been no voyage to the city."

"And without you, I'd still be there," Josh replied, briefly slicing the barrier-like membranes of his guarded security, self-expression, and amiability. He had almost forgotten how to be pleasant.

"You're a resourceful man," Jay replied with a smile. "You would have survived without me."

"Okay fine, maybe I would've gotten by physically," Josh responded, cutting off the rest of his sentence as he hid an untimely qualm of warring emotions; he had breached his mental barriers - albeit by a baby-step – and he had broken his self-promise to isolate himself from the mutants, yet, a part of him was utterly relieved to have found someone he could reveal himself to. Apprehension and relief tickled his insides upon their cyclonic clash and Josh felt his chest expand as he took a heavy, moist breath of air.

The relief inhaled his body as his mind briefly dismantled the cumbersome securities he had erected during the week upon his mutant integration, but the apprehension did not die. It swirled past the cool relief within him like a baleful zephyr – a harbinger of a conditional hurricane, contingent upon the external consequences of revealing too much. Josh shuddered and pulled himself out of the prisms of his mind, as Jay waited through a prolonged pause between the healer's sentence.

"But not mentally," he finally continued, blinking to fully pull himself to reality. "I guess the main reason I owe you is because I needed.. need.. someone to.. erm.. _Damn_."

"Need someone to?" Jay asked, his voice ascending and eyebrows knitting.

Josh paused again and brought his hand to his forehead, feeling conflicted as to whether he should or should not finish that sentence.

"I'm not good at mushy shit," he remarked, deflating. "Sorry, I just … What I'm trying to say is that I.. I'm lucky. I'm lucky.. you know, to have someone to ... someone to talk to."

"Like a friend?" Jay asked, tilting his head again, something of which Josh noticed the winged mutant seemed to do when he didn't quite understand something to a satisfactory depth.

Josh's inner alarms were spinning and screaming as Jay reached out to make such an audacious assumption. Again, Josh had to detach himself from his thoughts in a similar way to how he blocked out his mother's nagging when she chided him for saying the wrong thing at a social event. The healer knew – despite the warnings – that he'd appreciate having someone to bounce his troubles off of. He didn't like being this aloof, rigid person, but he had almost completely lost sight of the person he once was – the person Dalores knew; his choleric, almost cruel pretense had blurred its boundaries with the mostly caring, optimistic Josh he once was, and the golden skinned mutant found that he was like two different people in one. A person he had created to protect himself from mutant trickery had come to influence the pure, bubbly Josh he used to be. Like hatred and love, two opposites fought to claim him, and Josh had lost scope of his self-direction and understanding. But one thing Josh felt was that both sides were vividly alive, and chose to come out depending on the situation. Now, his pretense was comatose and Josh could feel a sweeter part of him twitter in and out of his reactions to Jay's kindness.

"Yeah. Erm, I guess that's what I mean," he acquiesced.

"In that case," Jay replied with a smile, "I'm here if you need a friend."

"Thanks," Josh replied huskily, unsure as to what else he should say. "The last time I said thanks to somebody, I think was when I tripped on an escalator in LA before some old lady helped me up."

Jay chuckled. "I would've paid good money to see that," he said, his eyes lighter as his ears embarked on a journey of unfounded humor emitting from Josh. The golden mutant's smile fell, however, and his eyes fixed on Jay as if there were a ghost behind him.

"What did you say?" he asked, eyes wide.

Jay tilted his head. "I said I'd pay good money to see that. It was just a joke. I didn't mean to offend –"

"No, no," Josh replied monotonically. "It's just, for some reason when you said that, it reminded me of someone."

"Oh? Is he or she important?"

Josh shook his head and pinned his eyes closed before pensively opening them and drawing them across the room. "I guess not. I'd remember who they were otherwise."

"A valid point," Jay remarked. "But you need not thank me, Josh. I'm just relieved that you're safe."

"Same here," he responded before climbing under his duvet. "It's pretty late. Do you mind if I call it a night?" Jay nodded in the negative and Josh took the liberty to nuzzle his head into the pillow. It was the first time his head had been against something soft in what felt like years.

"Goodnight Josh," Jay responded, smiling. "Sleep well."

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"No Hank, I'm not going to wait around for the police to come get me. I have to go," replied Warren, as he shoveled miscellaneous fistfuls of shirts into a bag.

"Please Warren, I don't believe Emma would let anything happen to you. She's simply annoyed and will come to her senses in the morning," replied Beast, his voice sounding one notch too soothing to Warren's ears.

"Her senses are dead," replied Warren, pausing and looking up at Beast, his eyes bleeding with severity and fear. "She thinks I'm part of some none-existent staff rebellion."

"Staff rebel —? Warren, what are you talking about?" asked Beast, with a note of concern.

"Scott approached me," Warren sighed, tilting his head before continuing to fill his bag. "He said that many of the staff members aren't happy with Emma being in charge. I told Emma about it and then she started acting as if everyone was out to get her." He stopped, wiped his forehead, and zipped his bag-pack with a long swipe. "She's allowing me to go to jail so that I won't take her position – not as if I want it though, but she seems to think I do."

"This is ridiculous," Hank responded, his brows knitted. "Your funds created this school after Xavier put it in his will. You're a benefactor of this establishment so she cannot let you go."

"She can and she is," Warren retorted. "I stupidly paid for the construction of this school because Emma told me that she planned to make it a safe-haven for mutants. What I didn't know was that Xavier mentioned that _only_ Emma and Scott may run the school on this site, and so as long as Emma is in charge, I'm no longer safe here."

Beast's eyes popped wide, and his mouth drooped to form an oval. A heaviness grew in Warren's suite before Hank shook himself as if being struck by the lightening of an idea. "Can you not demand the deeds to this property? Surely there are options for the funder of the entire school?"

"I signed away all my rights to Emma because I was doing a favor for her. This land is the land of Charles Xavier and he's passed it on to Emma and Scott. Even if I _did_ demand the deeds to the property – not that I'd have a leg to stand on - the site which it's built on is Emma's. I'm nothing but a donator, Hank."

"I'm sorry Warren, but I can't believe Emma would do this."

"She _has_ done it, Hank. And if she's ready to do it to me, the _funder_ of this school, then think what she'd do to you. Cover your bases, Hank, and make sure to stay under the radar."

"Perhaps if I go speak to her," Beast suggested, marching for the door.

"_Don't_!" Warren said firmly, approaching Beast and placing a hand on his shoulder. "If you associate with me, she'll think you're plotting against her. I don't want to see anyone else end up in my position."

"But this is ludicrous, Warren. There _is_ no rebellion – we all know how Scott can … spew falsities."

"Of course we do," Warren sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But Scott is the only member of this school who can overthrow her. He's the only one mentioned in the will who is eligible to become principal. I think that scares her."

"But why now?" asked Hank, walking to the window and taking a soothing breath of the night's air. "If Scott was planning to instate himself as principal, why would he only do it now?"

"You'd have to ask him," Warren replied, "But I know that Scott didn't have the money to build the school – not that Emma did either – so when I built it for Emma, she assumed the role over Scott. That's why he's always hated me, because I built his dream and gave it to someone else."

Beast acquiesced and moved to the bed and plopped himself on its edge, causing the legs to creak. "So do you believe there _is_ a revolution in the horizon?" he asked, looking at Warren.

"Again, that's hard to say," Warren noted, slinging the bag onto his back. "As you said, Scott can blabber about utter crap until sunrise, but maybe it's taken him this long to rally the other teachers behind him. But the fact you knew nothing about this tells me that he was just doing his usual _vomir-de-merde_."

Warren wrapped a trench coat around himself before folding a scarf around his neck. "I'll call you when I'm somewhere safe," he added, walking to the door. "Take care of my stuff, okay? Maybe someday you could visit me and bring a few things."

"You're leaving?" Beast gasped, his palms facing upwards. "Where will you go? How will you live?"

"I'm not going to tell you where I'm going so that you won't have to lie if you're asked. Just know that I'll be okay and I'll contact you when I'm safe." Warren turned the door-knob and swung open the door. "I have to leave now. I don't know when the police will come knocking on the door, but I'm not taking any chances." He stepped into the hall and turned to face Beast. "Take care of yourself, Hank."

"Please Warren, this is ridiculous. Surely there are options.."

"I can't risk being locked in jail. Mutants that go to prison never come out again. I have wings, Hank, I'm made to be free."

Hank settled down, his gaze dropping to the floor before rising to view Warren one last time. "You will contact me when you are safe?"

"Of course," Warren replied, a tone of regret in his voice. "Thank you for being here, Hank. Tell the students I've gone on a holiday. Take care of yourself."

Hank eyed him suspiciously, as if to ask whether the winged teacher was making the right decision. Warren nodded firmly to the biologist, and Beast once again settled into his seat.

"I'll be waiting for you to call," Hank said.

"I'll be waiting for you to answer," replied Warren, turning around and walking down the halls he had built, for the very last time.

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"It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, Laur. Jay was carrying him like a baby when they landed, and his face was so red that it almost replaced the gold," Noriko chuckled, holding her stomach as the laughing pains shot through her chest. "I wish I had a camera. If I had a picture of that, it would be the wallpaper on my laptop without a doubt."

Laurie did her best to feign an unimpressed expression, when on the inside, she was guiltily chortling to Noriko's account of Josh's return to the school.

"But really, kudos to Jay for carrying shit for a two hour flight," Noriko added, breaking Laurie's restraints and causing her to bellow out in laughter.

"Noriko!" she chided, horsing over herself in mirth. "You are _so_ bad!"

"I know," she boasted, rubbing her nails across her shirt. "I'm just great like that."

Laurie calmed herself and fixed her posture. "You were right about him," she said, her countenance dropping slightly. "He _is_ just a waste of time. I should never have gotten so involved. Not after everything else."

Noriko took a breath that quelled the remnants of her mirth, before she slipped into a more serious mode and responded to Laurie: "What do you mean by _everything else_?"

"Nothing," Laurie sighed, hugging a pillow against her chest.

"Oh wait, do you mean..?"

Laurie nodded.

"Oh, you mean after Kevin Ford?" Noriko asked unsurely. "That's still bothering you?"

"It'll always bother me," Laurie replied, feeling guilty for ruining their mirthful moment. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up."

"Then why did you?" Noriko asked with a frown.

Laurie sighed again, "Kevin and Josh have so many similarities. I should've learned from my Kevin experiences to stay away from Josh. People like that aren't healthy to me."

"Especially after what Kevin did to you," Noriko agreed, her brows knitting. "But I think Josh is too much of a pussy to harm someone. So they're not completely the same." Noriko stopped, eyed Laurie and continued. "But why are we comparing Kevin to Josh? Kevin was your boyfriend and that golden guy is nothing but some unappreciative dickwad. Why are we even putting them in the same sentence?"

"Because Josh reminds me of the Kevin I knew before the incident," Laurie admitted, rouging a little.

"Are you kidding me?" Noriko gasped. "Are you saying you _like_ Josh?"

"No!" Laurie disavowed strongly, jumping to her feet and waving her arms in front of Noriko. "I'm not saying that at all! I was just noting a similarity!"

Noriko burst out laughing, pointing at Laurie as she buckled over herself. "You have a thing for pussy-boy!"

"No I don't! I was just saying that Josh reminded me of Kevin, that's all! Nothing more than that!"

"Are you sure?" Noriko drawled, her grin stretching from one cheek to the other. "Maybe little Laur-Laur has a thing for goldie-boy?"

"Give it up," Laurie grunted, half firmly and half mirthfully. "You know it's not true. The fact Josh reminds me of _Kevin_ is hardly a compliment."

Noriko took a deep breath of air as she settled herself, and cooed at the end of her laughing fit.

"I s'_pose_ that's true," she resigned. "But still, imagine how funny it would be if you two hooked up? He'd probably be like living with a pregnant woman."

"_Noriko_!" Laurie chortled, slapping the duvet of her bed beneath her. "I need to sleep."

"Oh fine," replied the electric student. " But don't go having any Joshy dreams now!"

"I hate you, Nori," Laurie grumbled.

"I know Laurie, I know."

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The phone rang. Three times, actually, and Emma allowed it to go to the answering machine each time. It rumbled, vibrated and sang for her attention, but all she could do was stare at the glowing screen. She knew who it was. She knew very well; she knew that when she answered it, she'd be sending a man, an innocent person, and a friend to his doom. Could she do it? Could she live knowing that she'd sent her closest friend to a life of danger, injustice and murder in prison? The fourth missed call was left unanswered. Silence.

She had asked, _begged_, Warren to build a mutant utopia. He had had the funds to do it, being the only one rich enough to put the wishes of Charles Xavier into reality, thus Emma spoke time and time again about the construction of a mutant asylum. Warren seemed to fall a little bit more in favor of the idea each time, and before she knew it, she was sitting in the cherry oak office that had become her confines over the last years.

Through thick and thin, Warren had been by her side. When Scott started giving her troubles, or began nagging in her ear, Warren was the one who said: "I'll deal with it." When the weight of her role began to press down on her, Warren was always there to alleviate her concerns. But where was he now? He had left her. _How_ could he have left her?

The phone rang again, and the number reminded Emma of why he had left. The call was left to ring for the fifth time.

A rebellion. She spoke of it, he spoke of it. She had used it as a reason to let him go, but he didn't know that. He had handed her a reason on a silver platter when he informed her of a possible rebellion. What he didn't know was that she didn't care about it. Did he really think she viewed Scott as competition? The truth was that Emma had been searching desperately for a reason to let Warren go.

The look in his eyes when he'd walk in, or the frisson down her spine when he'd put an arm around her was enough to send her stomach into a undulation of blissful fear. It was true. Emma's love for Warren remained, rather, unrequited. Warren had no idea of her feelings – perhaps because she was too scared to show them to him. The men in her life had lifted her to the stars and dropped her to the craters with a mere fastening of the belt. She had never found anyone who would take any kind of interest in her, or anyone who would take the time to become familiar with the little things about her, such as her favorite dish or color. Men were there, and then they weren't.

However, Warren had _always_ been there; he'd been the denominator during her rocky relationships. He always called her "his best friend," and that word would always make and break her. She liked being considered a friend, but that word in its own right, did not justify her true feelings towards him. Warren _did_ know her favorite dish, and he _did_ know her favorite color, and after failed relationship after failed relationship, Emma realized that what she couldn't find inside the countless men in her life, were the traits that Warren had always retained: Care, passion, altruism, and fervor.

She had been looking for _Warren _the entire time, and he'd been under her nose from the very beginning.

The phone rang again: same number, same outcome. Sixth ignored call.

But men were the same, she mused. Warren was a man, like the others, and the minute he got his way with her, he'd join the list of lost loves, the people that had broken Emma that little bit more.

Love was fickle, love was false, and love was weak; and Emma was not weak. She shook her head and pulled the collars of her coat closer to her neck. Being in love would put her under his shadow; she was the ruler, she called the shots, and she would never live under the thumb of some man – Warren or no Warren. She blinked an acerbic tear away.

"Love is for the weak," she muttered to herself.

The call came for the seventh time, and Emma did what even she didn't expect. Her finger met the cushiony surface of the green symbol of her phone and she lifted it to her ear and mouth. All she knew was that she needed to separate herself from Warren. She needed to remove the source of these hindering feelings that plagued her.

"Hello?" she asked, inhibiting a sniff.

"Hello Mrs Frost, my name is Helena Joy, the head investigator over the death of Mrs. Paddy Parsons. Apologies for calling so late."

"Yes. Hello, how can I help you?" Emma asked somberly.

"I understand Mr. Warren Worthington III is a resident in your establishment?"

Emma gulped.

"Yes," she said, wiping her eye.

"Yes he is."


	14. Ends, Justify, Means?

**(^^^)= a flashback beginning or ending. **

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One month, one week and six days. Each hour strolled by with regretful heaviness, before accumulating to form the end of one remorseful day. The days added up too, and a lonely week was crossed out on the calendar by the thick, mossy ink of a green marker. As each week passed by, remembered only by the grim sways of the thought provoking tips of the oak trees, a bleak, somber month had rolled by and Emma had started her count again.

"Tomorrow will be one month, and two weeks," she said to herself, her foundationless depression causing her to stare at a picture of her and Warren. "Almost three months since he left."

The halls were silent. Her office was silent. Even the dorms either side of her dwelling place were silent. Not a peep. Not as much a click, a hoot or a thump. Just silence. Silence. Utter silence.

The clock had frozen. Emma didn't need the real time; the time in her head was all she needed – the time since Warren had left. One month, one week, and six days. Not a minute later, and not a minute earlier. Her calculations were meticulous.

All Emma knew was that it was dark. She could not guess the hour, never-mind the approximate minute, thus she could not discern one night from its predecessor. In the one month, one week and six days since Warren had left, her ability to recount the immediate past had been numbed. Monday was Tuesday and Tuesday was Monday. Wednesday was always too far away.

What day did Warren leave? Oh yes, on a Thursday. Emma detested Thursdays. Each one was a reminder of what she did – what she did to her best friend, to her confidant, and to the man she loved. The man she had always loved. The man she tried not to love. The man she ruined with her love. The man she ruined. Ruined, with her love.

An hour rolled by, and Emma added it to the pile; the pile that would soon amount to a day, and would then be shifted to the counted slew of weeks thereafter. Countless days fell upon the weeks which would fall upon the months.

Emma eyed her room. When did she let it become so prosaic? Since when did it become so devoid of color? Why was it so grim? Why was _everything_ so grim? The only area of which the telepath could see any form of life, was the main door. It shined amongst greyness as Emma expected Warren to burst through. He _had_ built that door, after-all. Wouldn't he want to come back for it? Surely he'd want to come back for it! Why wouldn't he?

Perhaps he'd come back for the door, and he'd give Emma a chance to take back everything she said and would allow her to make things right. He didn't deserve to be jailed. She shouldn't have given away his whereabouts. She should never have told the authorities of his home in the countryside. She should never have done any of it. But she did. She feared what would come as a result of her love for Warren. Would it have made her soft, and incapable of being the principal? Would it have compromised her authority over the students? Would it have forced her to be under the thumb of a _man_? Would it have made the staff come to disrespect her? Is that what love did? It _was_ what love did, wasn't it? Love is for the weak, she once mused - one month, two weeks and six days ago.

Emma muttered it over and over, in every last attempt to convince herself. She needed to be told that she did the right thing. She needed to be told that her love for Warren would've held her back. She sought assurance. She _needed_ assurance. She needed an angel to swoop down and embrace her in its white wings and tell her that love was the enemy.

Beyond tears, beyond anger and beyond regret, Emma drew her eyes across her office. She remembered the day her room was built and the happiness she felt as she christened it 'my office.'

Warren wanted it to have one large window behind the main desk, but Emma insisted that the room have five small windows instead. Perhaps that was the problem: the room needed more windows.

Emma sighed. "Who am I kidding?" she said, exhaling a lump of air that spoke of her defeat.

Windows would do nothing, just as the door would do nothing. There was _nothing_ she could do. There was no going back. Warren was in jail – because of her – and amending that was now beyond her control. All she could do was think about the past, and allow it to remind her of how great Warren was to her. All she could do was allow the past – the wonderful, yet regretful past – to sting her and tease her. Mistakes were, in fact, rarely overwritten.

**(^^^)**

15th September 2001.

"According to the will of Charles Xavier, Charles has given his land to both of you to build a school on.. a haven for mutants, as he puts it," said the reader of the will from his side of the desk. Scott and Emma looked at each other.

"Both of us?" Scott asked, "How does that work?"

"You have joint ownership," replied the reader flatly, peering down at the page and then tilting his face upwards again. "The land must only be used to built a school, however. These are the wishes of Charles Xavier."

"But what if we can't?" asked Emma, aware of the emptiness in her pockets and wallet. "I can't afford to build a school."

"Same here," added Scott, shuffling his feet on the ground uncomfortably. "What'll happen to the land if neither of us can build a school on it?"

"Then it will remain in your names until one – or both – of you are able to build on it."

"One, or both?" Emma asked, looking at Scott. "What do you mean?"

The man sighed impatiently and straightened his papers against the desk with a hollow plop. "If _one_ of you become financially ready to build on the land, then you may do so without the consent of the other. Mr. Xavier made is very clear that he is not partial to which of you build the school, once it is in fact _one_ of you."

"Or both," added Scott suspiciously. "I won't go ahead with anything without Emma knowing about it."

Emma turned and smiled. "We're in this together."

"Well then problem solved," said the man, standing up. " But there is one last thing." He unclipped his briefcase and dropped the papers into a pocket before he turned to Scott and Emma

The duo met his stance before they looked at each other and back at the man again. "And what is that?" they both asked, unsure as to whether they wanted to hear the '_on one condition,'_ type of scenario that was likely to bloom as a result of his words. The man stuck his chin out and peered down at them from beneath his glasses. "Both of you are allowed permanent residency on the property when the school is built. Mr. Xavier put this in place so that both of you may have a place to call home. He states that nothing should come in the way of that."

"May I see that?" Emma asked, looking at the hand-written will of Charles Xavier. The man eyed her before handing the page over. "Please be careful," he said, engendering Emma to roll her eyes.

Looking down, she read the last paragraph of the will:

"Despite whomever is the principal, both Emma Frost and Scott Summers may retain a permanent place on the staff, as well as a permanent residency on the school, as long as he or she is a living mutant on this planet."

"Well that's pretty written in stone," remarked Scott, who read the will over Emma's shoulder. "Xavier really covered our bases for us."

"Typical Charles," Emma eulogized, briefly picturing the bald man's face in her mind. "He had the most beautiful eyes."

"They looked red to me," said Scott. "But then again, everything does with this visor over my eyes."

Emma smiled. "Well then just take my word for it," she replied, only to be interrupted by a cough from the will-reader. "Are we done yet?" he asked.

"Yes," Scott declared curtly, signaling the exit to Emma. "We were just leaving." The two headed out the door and stopped when it closed behind them. Neither spoke for a moment as Scott sighed, his face towards the ceiling while Emma glared at a smudged stain on the carpet.

"A school?" Scott finally said, Emma raising her gaze. "Charles wants us to build a school?"

He signaled to Emma to walk with him down the hall, and she did so, keeping up to his pace. "That's what the will said," Emma replied, her feet now sore from her shoes that were cutting into her heels. "Scott.." she sighed, halting her movement as he kept walking. He realized that Emma was behind him, and he backtracked to her with an expression of concern on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his apparent care almost undoing her.

"I just.. I think we need to agree on something," she replied, sadness – possibly worry – in her eyes. "What's on your mind?" he asked, appearing unsure as to what was specifically her problem. Emma could see herself in the neon-rouge reflection of his visor, and she shuddered as she caught a glimpse of her own face: What _was_ she worried about?

"You have more money than I do, Scott," she said. "We both know that you'll be the one to build the school first." She made no efforts to hide the pain in her voice; building a mutant-haven was always something she had dreamed about .. well, something she _and_ Scott had always dreamed about. "I might as well give up on this stupid notion in my head where we'd co-run a mutant asylum together." Scott's eyes sizzled her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke until Scott took the honors. "I'm saying this once, and never again. Emma, we are in this _together_. We're going to build this _together_ and be principals _together_. Charles give this to _us_ – remember that."

"I know," Emma sighed, comforting herself with a rub of her arms. "But I'm scared that none of this will be mine – that I'm tricking myself by thinking that I have a chance at being part of this."

"You _do_ have a chance at being part of this, ," Scott replied, his voice unwavering. "I don't have the funds to do this anymore than you do, but I do have some sources lined up. If I manage to get a hold of some investment cash then I'll go ahead with the plan, but only with you _by my side_."

Emma smiled, her worries beginning to melt away. "Is that a promise?" she asked, looking hopeful. "Yes," Scott replied, "It's a promise."

The two continued down the hall and exited the building, neither of them aware of the guilty smile painted across Emma's face.

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"Five million dollars?" Warren gasped, as he paced around the living room of his rural villa, "You want to _borrow_ five _million_ dollars?"

"Just listen to me Warren," Emma replied, frantically dancing around him during his pensive movements. "We could build a school for mutants – a home base – somewhere all mutants can call home." She turned to push herself in front of him and blocked him in his kinetic fueled thoughts. "Are you listening?" she asked, placing two hands on his shoulders. "Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Of course I heard you," Warren replied flatly. "But excuse me for getting a bit lost at the part where you asked me for five million dollars." He sat on his armchair which was aligned against the crackling fire, and he allowed himself to be embraced by the cushiony heat below him, before he reached for the bottle on the table and poured himself a glass of wine. "Where did this all come from? Why now? Emma, I've got so many questions that I don't know where to start."

Emma groaned. "Charles died last week, if you'll remember." Warren nodded amidst her words. "He left his land in Salem to me and Scott and asked us to build a school on it."

Warren looked up. "And that's why you're here?"

Emma wore an apologetic smile, worried that her actions were overly blunt in telling the tale of her request. "Well it's _one_ reason," she replied, her mind flicking for another possible reason for being there – save the enjoyment of his company.

"So what's the other reason?" he asked, swirling the stem of a wine glass between his thumb and index finger, not looking at Emma, who was internally panicking for another, less shallow, reason to excuse her dusky intrusion at three in the morning. "Well?" he asked again.

"I just wanted to talk about the will with you," was Emma's resigned reply.

"So this _is_ the only reason you're here?" he asked. Emma threw herself onto the opposite chair, tired of beating around the bush. "Ugh Warren, just make your point!" she chided, tilting her eyes to the ceiling. "I never know what point you're making until you actually make it."

Warren smiled and let his lightened expression remain for a moment before he drew it back to neutrality. "You asked me for five million dollars," he stated, still swirling the glass stem. "I can do that. In fact, I could call the bank in the morning and have it transferred into your account." Emma's eyes – shocked, confused and hopeful – popped up to Warren and she waited anxiously as he considered his words through lengthy intervals of silence. "But, if I'm going to do that, I need to know _everything_: Your plans, your ideas, the obstacles, the time, the people involved, the enemies we'll make. _Everything_. No secrets."

Emma, unnerved, reached for her own glass of wine before nuzzling her back into the chair. She told him of her hopes of constructing a mutant asylum and her plans to make it a safe-haven for mutants around the world. She told him about Xavier's will and what it said. She told him about the subjects she'd want to offer and the people she's had in mind to take roles as teachers. She told him how long it should take and where exactly every segment of his money would be allocated to, down to the last penny. She told him about everything, minus one little detail.

"And where does Scott stand in all of this?" Warren asked skeptically, still twisting the stem of the now-empty wine glass. Emma shuddered. It was poker-face time. "Well you know this has always been his dream," she stated, unsure whether she was convincing in her approach. "But let's face it Warren, Scott's not cut out to run a school. He's soft, he's weak – he's just not the type."

"I quite like Scott, actually," Warren added, emitting a shrug from Emma. "Likeability isn't a trait of a leader," she replied, almost acerbically before she remembered whom she was speaking to. "Unfortunately Scott will have residency on the school, because Charles made sure to say that in the will. But if I'm the creator of the establishment, then it'll be me who runs it."

"But _I'm_ the creator of the establishment," Warren replied, raising an eyebrow. "Did Xavier mention anything about a neutral party building the school? Who would be the principal then?"

"Well you're _hardly_ a neutral party," Emma remarked, shrugging. "You're _my_ friend, remember? And this is all part of the huge favor you're doing me."

"I haven't decided yet," Warren chided, although Emma was confident she had wrapped him in. "Why can't both of you be principals?"

"Because this is _my_ idea," she replied, a firey spit in her voice. "Scott's always wanted this as long as I have, but now that I have the opportunity to make this happen, I can't let it slip between my fingers, Warren, I can't. It's been my dream to do this – to _lead_ this."

"Scott won't be happy about this, Emm," Warren reminded through a sigh. "He's a wrathful guy. Can you handle it?"

"With you I can," Emma responded, rouging a little at her blurted words. "I mean, with your financial support I can build the school and then there'll be nothing he could do to me."

Warren grinned, stood to his feet, and plopped himself on the armrest of Emma's chair before slinging an arm around her. "You're brave – if not a little crazy – to do this," he said, his words dying upon Emma as she made all efforts to restrain herself against his touch. "But if this has been your dream, then I'm behind you all the way. You'd do the same for me, right?"

She shuddered as his grip tightened, the feathers of his wings tickling the back of her neck. "O..Of c..course," she responded, dragging herself back to herself. "Of course," she reiterated calmly. "You know I'd do the same for you."

"Right," Warren said with a smile, hopping up. "Then I'll call the bank in the morning and have the money transferred into your account. It may take some time though, banks are terrified when dealing with that kind of money."

"Thanks Warren. I'll pay you back someday. I promise, I will. I won't ever let you down," promised Emma, standing to her feet and extending a hand to Warren. "I'll make sure this turns out perfect. I owe that to you."

"Oh shut up and stop being so formal," Warren laughed, gently slapping Emma's back as she withdrew her hand, along with all her formalities. "It's been twelve years and you still shake my hand whenever you want to say thanks."

"Ugh, sorry. It's just, it's not everyday someone agrees to things like this. I can't thank you again."

"Just take the money and build your dream," replied Warren fervently. "You shouldn't thank anyone when that's what you're doing."

The fire projected a Princeton orange hue upon Warren's face, and his tied wings shivered with restrained power that made Emma's legs feeble. The generosity, the trust, the confidence.. Warren had it all, and as he smiled at her with a countenance of innocence and naivety, Emma couldn't bring herself to match his grin as too overwhelmed by awe was she to do so. She could never trust someone the way he trusted her, and that in a sense, saddened Emma as she felt as if she could never be the person he was. She could never amount to a person who had such an undying confidence in his friends, his relationships and humanity as a whole, like Warren. But what she was doing, was achieving her goal in life – to build a mutant safe haven.

The hardest part was over; the money, the planning, the organizing – all of it was behind her now. Except one little obstacle chewed at the back of her mind as she partially attempted to celebrate her success in her persuasion of Warren. The obstacle had a name, and its name was Scott Summers.

**(^^^)**

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The memory chilled Emma. As she looked around at the office around her, she found herself glaring outside her colonial window and focusing on the neatly trimmed shrubs and perfectly aligned flowers before she realized that every single part – even down to the width of the curbs and the placement of trees – of the property, had been created by Warren. Even the place she called home could be attributed to the angel's generosity.

Suddenly he was everywhere. The pictures on the walls distorted and formed his face before they closed in on the telepath. He was seeping from the walls, bursting through the windows, blossoming from the lamps – he was all around her. What she did to him, was all around her, and Emma threw herself into the corner of the room with an apt scream. With fearful tears in her eyes, she looked up as her watery vision formed the shape of a sturdy angel and she shrieked again before cowering further into the corner.

Sobbing, wailing and moaning, she drew her legs to her chest and flicked her head upon her knees, crying through the crippled muscles of her stomach.

"Emma, what's going on?" yelped a voice opposite her. She hadn't noticed the door being knocked open by the smash of a shoulder.

Like all of her dreams coming true in one moment, Emma looked up, watery beads still in her eyes as she asked: "Warren?"

"No. It's Scott. What're you doing on the floor?" he asked duly, a vacuity of sympathy in the shapes of his eyes. Emma stared at him for a moment, whispering his name to herself as she took a moment to allow the name to register with her. When it did, she snapped to her feet and wiped away her tears with an indignant swipe.

"What are you doing in my office?" she growled, doing her best to hide the inflated tone of her voice. Scott eyed her suspiciously, a look that made Emma feel small – and not in terms of height. "I heard crying in here. I thought someone was _dying_ so I came to see what it was.. Apparently it's just you, though."

"Yes it's just me," she snarled back. "Learn to respect my privacy, Scott."

"Learn to keep yourself together while you're principal. You're a wreck – look at yourself."

"I'll remind you of whom you are _speaking_ to," Emma growled, clenching her fists. "This is my business and you have no right to comment."

"Maybe not," Scott spat sarcastically, "but there's nothing you can do about it."

Emma laughed indignantly and sarcastically. "Still bitter, are we?" Her voice wavered and she angrily drew the backs of her hands against her eyes to hide any evidence of her breakdown.

"Bitter?" Scott growled, "_Bitter_? The only reason you sit in _here_, is because I sit out _there_." He pointed to the halls behind the opened door while Emma managed to endure the power of his words with a tilt of her chin. "But you haven't thought of that, have you?" he growled. "You've only ever looked after yourself. You even sold out the _one_ person that saw any humanity in you. You're despicable Emma, and you deserve any hardship that comes your way."

Emma's mouth dropped and she bitterly collected herself. Her mind flashed to the moment when she told Scott that she'd be constructing the school _without_ him. His rage now, mirrored that of back then, and Emma had to force herself to maintain eye contact. "And Warren? You think you have the right to mourn him? You're the reason he's gone – and probably dead. You betrayed him the same way you betrayed me," accused Scott. "So don't ask me if I'm bitter because I honestly could not describe my feelings towards you. If I wasn't passionate about the idea of a mutant asylum then I wouldn't be here at all. I wouldn't stand living under the same roof as you otherwise."

An unrestrained tear seeped down Emma's cheek, however Scott remained undeterred by her anguish. She tried to speak, but a croak stole her words. "I never betrayed you," Emma mumbled, pushing her emotions into an over-filled bag of suppression. "I followed my dreams, and I have no regrets about that."

Scott stomped and threw his hands in the air with a sarcastic laugh. "Is _that_ how you justify it?" he sniggered. "Here's the truth Emma: You manipulated Warren Worthington and he stupidly fell for it. He's so frail and cushiony that I'd expect no less. Once you had the money to go on, you didn't need me to bog you down so you went forward without me. I promised you that if I had the funds, I'd make it _our_ plan, but when you got Warren on board, you didn't need me anymore, and it suddenly it became _your_ plan."

"That's not how it was!" Emma interjected.

"Yes it _was_," he growled. "You stole my dream from under me. I was prepared to share it with you, but you took it all for yourself. I've always dreamt of this, but you and Warren took my aspirations and re-shaped them."

"You were too weak to lead this school!" Emma growled, her final stand against the truth behind Scott's words. "You would've crumbled under the pressure!"

"_I_ would've crumbled?" he asked. "Please stop, the hypocrisy is overpowering."

"I'm entitled to be stressed," she defended, following her words with a minor stomp of the foot. "As you said, you're out _there_, so how could you possibly know what it's like to run this school?"

"Being stressed is normal. Hallucinating and having panic attacks is not. The difference is vast."

"You don't speak from experience Scott, so with respect, you have no idea what you're talking about. You've never been the principal."

"No," he said, lowering his tone. "No, I haven't. Because you took that from me. I'm no more part of this school than any of the teachers – who are hired – are."

"Give it up Scott. What happened, happened. There's nothing you, or I, can do to change that."

Scott fell silent and only Emma's heavy breathing could be heard. "Tell that to Warren Worthington," he remarked, turning around and exiting the office.

Emma slid down the wall behind her with a gasp, and curled herself into a ball once again. Her memories, the shock, her confrontation with Scott – they all amounted to too much, and her head fell to the side, as the mutant succumbed to the soporific effects of her wild emotions. She didn't care who saw her; all she wished was to banish the faces of those she hurt to be in her position, from her mind. Scott, Warren, the mutants she never pursued upon departing the campus .. each face mocked her until she drifted into sleep amidst the hammering pain all over her body.

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"Tonight, we celebrate!" declared Jono Starsmore, slapping his glass of white rum upon the long oak table before him. His cronies, the other mutants and members of the Brotherhood of Mutants, clapped as their leader rejoiced in the collective moment of fortune and prosperity.

"To hard work and planning!" added Karl Lykos, punching the air. "It's about time we saw some luck come our way."

"Brothers and sisters," continued Jono, signaling to the feast that ornamented the table before him, "together we have proven that the Brotherhood of Mutants is a force to be reckoned with. Together, we cannot be stopped. Remember this day, my people, as this is the day we have proven ourselves against humanity. Mutants are, and forever will be, superior to the wretched vermin that threaten our very existence."

A collective cheer filled the room and the sound of clattering cutlery was heard. "Now, we eat!"

Conversations died before the mutants of the Brotherhood attacked the varied bowls and plates of food in front of them. Forks stabbed bodies of turkey and spoons scooped up piles of honey glazed carrots and lemon roasted asparagus.

"Let us appreciate the fine cooking skills of the beautiful Eileen Harsaw and thank her for the work she put into making this feast as great as the Brotherhood itself," said Jono, interrupting the slurping of his meal. "Eileen, we thank you."

The blonde bowed her head slightly and smiled. "It is my pleasure Boss. Let's hope we see feasts like this in the future."

"Yes, let us make a habit of this!"

The Brotherhood's members turned back to their meals and the conversations were immediately replaced by the crunching of bones, the popping of cranberries and the squelching of vegetables. Jono, who was usually aware of every happening around him, did not notice that one of his members remained cross-armed and indignant, staring at the others as they greedily inhaled their food while she huffed and snarled at their desperation to consume every iota of meat on the table. After the third or fourth huff, Jono looked up and saw his hot-tempered teammate glaring at her empty plate.

"Callisto, why aren't you eating?" he asked, placing his fork neatly beside his plate. "Do you not appreciate the work put into this feast?"

Without as much as a cringe, she turned and eyed Jono, remaining cross-armed. "No, I appreciate it," she said, her voice suggesting an emerging criticism. "But I can't help but feel that this is all so.. temporary." The other mutants groaned before looking to Jono to see his reaction. Many of them just continued to eat.

"By all means, explain what you mean," said Jono, his ease unnervingly paradoxical to his tone. Callisto seemed to hold her own, and she maintained eye contact with her superior. "Yesterday, we were eating half-moldy pieces of bread and now we're drooling over slices of turkey and ham." Jono eyed her, as if to ask _'and your point?' _but she continued on regardless. "Does anyone else feel like this is a bit inconsistent?"

"Shut up and eat!" shouted Mortimer Toynbee. Callisto growled and Jono nodded for her to continue. "We robbed a bank to get the money for this food. I'm just worried that it won't be so easy next time." She sighed heavily as she twiddled with her unused cutlery. "What if one of us gets hurt next time? What are we supposed to do then? We won't have the money to give anyone the care they'd need because we would've spent it all on this, or other unnecessary treats."

"So what're you suggesting?" asked Jono, in a deep grumble.

"Economically, we need a healer. Think about it: If we have nothing to lose because we have a healer behind us, then we could zap the funds of every bank in Salem. We'd be above the police. Right now, we're still at the mercy of the law – the police are armed, and we wouldn't be able to heal any one of us who would end up at the other end of the authority's barrel."

"What's that have to do with this feast?" groaned Victor Creed, with a grand growl. "That turkey bone on your plate," Callisto replied, pointing to a gnawed stick of devoured turkey flesh, "comes from a turkey that cost fifty dollars – the same amount of money that would buy many first aid kits, disinfectant units, needles, threads, you name it."

"So you're saying that we _shouldn't_ treat ourselves to feasts like these as we should be saving up for a possible injury during a mission, instead?" asked Jono, awaiting confirmation.

"Yes," concluded Callisto, "until we get a healer, at least."

"Enough," stated Jono, straightening his back and pushing his plate in front of him, causing the tablecloth to crease. "I've heard enough of this ungrateful rant. Callisto, since you do not seem to appreciate the work gone into this feast, I implore you to leave."

A murmur of agreement spread amongst the other members, and eyes of scrutiny scraped the rebellious mutant's exterior.

"Mission duty for the rest of the month!" suggested Maximus Jensen, his nose-dominated face sneering at Callisto before it moved to seek agreement from Jono, only to be shunned. Taken aback by the highly critical reception to her idea, Callisto huffed and stomped out of the room, turning around briefly to leave one last comment before she disappeared to her residence.

"Remember this moment, Jono, because I really do think you'll regret not listening to me."

The leader stood up. "Leave this room and come back in the morning when you have your common sense about you. Do not return with this attitude again."

"Yes boss. Apologies if I'm out of line. But I feel my suggestion was for the greater good of the Brotherhood."

"Noted," Jono snarled, before sitting back down and tucking into the piles of turkey bones smeared across his plate.


	15. The Drum Beats Out Of Time

Josh's round two at Xaviers proved a little easier than before. He had kept mostly to himself during the day, and at night, Jay listened to his problems for hours on end. The two had become close in the past month, and Josh could feel as if he could trust the mutant more and more with every aspect of himself that he shared. He was still wary of the other mutants, however; he never spoke to anyone unless spoken to – and even then, only if it was worth a reply, would he bring himself to respond – and he seldom engaged in eye-contact with any of them. Regardless, people didn't disturb him as long as he didn't bring attention to himself, and so Josh did the bare minimum expected of him as a student of Xavier's School.

Life wasn't cheery, but at least it wasn't completely miserable either. Josh had begun to see the color in things again, especially as he wrapped his brain around the fact that he could, quite literally, give life to anything he touched. His powers still boggled his brain: How did his touch restore _life_? Why was he given such a nature-defying ability? In passing, he had heard Beast say that healers were rare nowadays, and this made Josh question even more as to why he had been given these powers. He didn't feel as if there was anything special about him.

Mc. Coy had hounded him a few times for a check up and power assessment, but Josh managed to seek out reasons for his absence every time. The thought of Beast – with his huge claws and wild fur – touching and prodding him, unnerved Josh, and he had found that using: "I have diving practice," as his excuse proved quite effective – Beast never allowed hismelf to be an obstacle in the way of exercise.

Word of Warren's departure had spread quickly. With claims of vacation-related leave from , the students thought it odd that a teacher as committed as Warren would "leave on a Carribbean cruise for the forseeable future," and so, when rumors of the truth began to circulate, students were quick to adopt the situation for what it was. Josh and Jay were sworn to secrecy by Emma Frost, with the unsaid word _'expulsion_,' hidden behind her tone, and the duo spoke not of the events in New York outside of their own dorm.

It was hard for them to sit back and feign nonchalance as some student's bought the exaggerated rumors that were being whispered around the classes. The two healers knew that Warren _had_ accidentally killed Paddy Parsons, and they knew that that probably had something to do with his departure, but they did not know the true reasons for his partir, and thus, they knew about as much as the rest of the students on that specific point. They hypothesized between themselves, however, as to why Warren would have left, and Emma's involvement in that decesion. Did he leave because of guilt? Did Emma make him leave? Was he really _just_ on a holiday? Was he seeking some sort of psychiatric help? They'd spend whole nights theorizing it until one of them – usually Josh – would fall asleep.

Also included in their conversations, was the topic of _both_ mutants being healers. Amidst the chaos of his return, Josh had no time to ask Jay why he hadn't told him that he too was a healer – albeit, a self healer only. Jay usually responded with a shrug, before explaining that his healing abilities were just a mundane part of him and he usually forgot that he had them, as they seldom ever had to be used. Josh found comfort in knowing that he wasn't alone in his powers.

In class, Josh usually had to shut one eye to block out the stabbing glares from Laurie Collins in his peripheral vision. It was rare that he noticed her outside of that specific class as it was the only time she had to sit one agonizing table beside him. To his immediate left, was Jaeda Lee, the mutant that seemed relatively unresponsive. She was yet to speak – or even acknowledge- Josh in the slightest and this was something that was both eerie, but also relieving as he knew that he wouldn't have to engage in useless mutanty conversations or pleasantries.

Now, Josh was sitting in his English classroom, listening to yet another _Where's Warren?_ related conversation. Behind him, was Megan Gwynn and Maxwell Jordan, the two of whom held back nothing in their yappings pertaining to Warren's departure. Josh flinched upon each misconception that met his ears, and he desperately sought Jay's attention for some sort of assurance.

"I heard he was recruited by a circus or something," stated Megan, recalling the story told to her by somebody else. "Apparently he was approached and was asked to join them and he said yes." Josh didn't dignify her account with even a shiver; he sat and relaxed himself as he did his best to remove himself from the situation.

"That's not true," confirmed Maxwell, with a tilted finger. "Everybody knows that Emma dumped him – they've been together for years, after-all."

Josh chuckled to himself at that one. As if Emma would ever share herself with anyone, he mused. He tucked his shoulders into the niches of his chair.

"They were a couple?" gasped Megan, a hand meeting her opened mouth. "I had no idea!" Her other hand pulled itself through her hair, and her mind wandered to how she had never picked up the unknown falsity before. "I would never have guessed."

"Bull," coughed Santo Vaccarro, with a vertical fist at his lips. "I'd say War-War broke a nail and left after the trauma of it."

Maxwell snorted and Megan gasped. "Really?" she awed, her hand at her mouth once more. Max and Santo exchanged looks before eyeing the pixie with a look that spoke of her gullibility.

"Yes," confirmed Santo with a wry smile at Max. "He's being treated for it now."

"I would _never_ have guessed," she pointed-out, wondering how she didn't pick up on _that_ falsity either.

"You're all wrong," said a person to Josh's left, and four faces turned. Josh looked around and could see no source of the sound, but when he traced the eyesight of Santo, Megan and Maxwell, he realized that it was, in fact, Jaeda Lee who had spoken.

"What was that?" Santo asked, his voice unknowingly chained to a mocking tone. Jaeda turned back around, seeming as if she didn't quite know what had come over her, and she rested into her seat once again. Josh, Santo, Maxwell and a dumbfounded Megan exchanged glances before the former shrugged his seat a little further to his right.

"Did she just speak?" whispered Santo to the group around him, failing to be inconspicuous. "Shh!" Megan chided even louder, making _who_ they were speaking about fairly obvious to that same person. Jaeda remained undeterred by the oral shufflings behind her.

"Seriously, did she _just_ speak?" Santo reiterated, quiter this time. "What did she say? _'You're all wrong?' _Or something like that?"

Josh took a minute to back track the conversation to investigate what exactly she was referring to. With a flash of his mind, he realized that Jaeda had responded upon hearing the misconceptions surrounding _Warren's departure_. How exactly could she know anything about _that_? Josh froze in his movements, and his pencil dropped from between his fingers. She had said it was such conviction and certainty that even Josh feared that she knew as much as _he_ did, or even perhaps more. How could that be the case? She wasn't there when Warren killed Paddy? _Wasn't_ she?

When a crumpled up piece of paper bounced off Josh's head, he jerked upwards and saw a concerned Jay peering his way. Mouthing _'are you okay?' _Jay stood to approach Josh, but sat back down again when the Warren-substitute teacher marched in.

"Helloooo and Weeeelcome," chanted a dark hair-plaided woman, her fluttery yellow skirt flowing behind her. "It's a beautiful day to learn."

Josh looked at Jay and Jay looked at Josh, thinking the same sentence that was instantly put into existence by Santo, who whispered his opinion to Maxwell. "Whip out the ganj Maxie-boy, we appear to have a hippy."

Mid-twirl, the teacher stopped, and chanted something in Hindi that made Paras roar out laughing at the back of the class.

"I always like to start my day with a lovely prayer," she cooed, twirling once more. The boys of the class fell over themselves laughing, while the girls threw optical daggers at her as she danced and pranced around the classroom. Noriko Ashida especially, had become particularly violent; Laurie had been doing her best to stop an inevitable insult deriving from the girl's mouth.

When the teacher hummed and fluttered once more, she fell to her seat like a falling feather to the surface, and her skirt followed in her movements.

"My name is Danielle Moonstar, and I'll be filling in for Mr. Worthington for the forseeable future," she sang, waving her arms as she spoke. Josh was level with Nori in terms of his disgust - Danielle was so _happy_. Santo and Maxwell were weak at the core from behind, the two of them making numerous hippy-related jokes that perked even the corners of Josh's mouth. When she got through the pleasantries, she asked for each student to introduce themselves. Josh, being at the furthest left corner of the room, was first.

"Now deary pettle gumdrop, stand up and tell me your name."

The healer glanced at Jay, his eyes pleaing for an interruption before he was moved along by Ms. Moonstar once again. "Deary pettle gu —what!?" Josh croaked, still looking at a distracted Jay, his attention stolen by the sniggers of Santo and Max from the back of the class. "My name's Josh," he said apprehensively, anunciating each word as if he were speaking to a psychiatric patient, or three year old child. He went to sit down but was asked another question by Ms. Moonstar.

"Josh. J_ooooo_sh. What a _beautiful_ name!" she cried, bursting her arms into the air. "Oh, it's so historic: Biblical and strong, yet sensitive and vulnerable. I do _love_ that name!"

Santo's snort of laughter was amplified by that of Mark Sheppherd's and Josh knew that Jay would never let him hear the end of that one. "Riight," he groaned in the same tone, attempting to sit.

"And _why_ were you named this?" she asked, an excessively profound and almost festive tone to her voice.

Josh's eyes wandered. "Umm, I have no idea," he admitted, watching the distance she kept from him. "I guess my parents just liked it?"

"Such good taste they must have," she concluded, swaying her arms again. "Thank you for that. A round of applause for Josh!"

A mocking cheer was heard and Josh sat himself, almost red faced. "Next, you!" she declared, pointing at Santo. The stoney giant stood up, still humming waves of laughter under his breath which were evoked by a chortling Max beneath him.

"Naaaame please!"

"San – Hahahaha," he roared, simultaneous to a chortle from Max. Danielle laughed along, unaware that she was the object of their mirth. "It's a beautiful day for laughter," she announced, performing a twirl that reignited the flames of aggitation within Noriko. "I'm glad to see so many smiles today. So what is your name, my smiley student?"

Santo's face widened and with one burst, he exploded in laughter once more, his fist almost going through the desk. "Sorry, sorry," he yelped, the pain in his stomach crippling him. "I'm Santo. Santo Varr –." He snorted again, his features shrivling as she watched him. "Santo Varracco." Relieved to have answered question one, the mutant almost slid to his chair until he was called upon to listen to the teacher's remark.

"Santo," she mumbled. "_Sahn – Toh_. Hmm." A pensive expression befell the teacher and she remained silent for a few seconds. "A name that suggests a limited scope," she ventured, stopping Santo in his mirthful tracks. "Limited, what?" he asked back, scratching his head. "Limited scope," she reiterated, still gazing upwards as if she was waiting for a thought to strike her. "Hmm. Let's move on. Next?"

Max and Santo exchanged looks and the others in the class looked to the mutant to see a reaction. "What did she mean by that?" he asked.

Max shrugged. "Maybe she means you shouldn't go into astrology or something."

Santo cringed. "Ha-Ha," he mumbled monotonically. "You're so funny."

The table in front saw less mirth as Josh continued to worry about Jaeda's earlier insight into the happenings of New York. His eyes wandered to her, but she was as still as the wall behind her profile was. A sudden eerieness washed over him.

"What do you know?" he asked her, at a whisper that could only be heard by himself. "I need to know what you know."

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The month had flown past for Laurie. She had visited the shelter almost every weekend and it had almost become a place of escapism for her. The children there still enjoyed her company and she loved having somewhere to go to get a break from the walls of Xaviers.

Ben had been occupied with exams and so Laurie found herself venturing around the school on her own, without having an extra pair of eyes on her back.

Josh had become the but of Noriko's jokes over the past month, to the point of humor immunity, and Laurie had to kindly request that she choose a new target. Noriko's relentless mirth at the expense of others had worn down her roommate, and Laurie found herself spending a lot of time by herself – especially at night. She enjoyed the quietness and the open air that the school campus could provide her with.

The blonde also did her best to avoid Joshua Foley at all costs. He piqued something inside of her that ignited her anger, and she felt it best to steer clear of him. She had stayed true to her word when she told herself that she'd stop caring if he left. Ironically, it was when she stopped caring did he decide to stay – but this thought was usually eschewed frequently from Laurie's mind.

The blonde was also one of the most surprised mutants to hear that Warren had left. She and him had always had a close teacher-student relationship, with Laurie unable to choose which teacher she preferred more: Warren or Beast. They were both two strong, patriarchal figures in her life and the thought that one of them had left, without as much as a goodbye, reminded Laurie of how fickle the males in her life could often be.

But when she lost one, she usually gained one – or at least, re-found one – and thus, Laurie found herself outside of one of Xavier's old, crumbled guesthouses. Emma once said that the guesthouses were there even before the school was, and that they were part of a building that once existed on the site. They were across the road, off of the campus and were quartered off by unkept shrubs and trees that blocked all but the darkened tips of the colonial swirls of the architecture. They were two Gregorian terraced living spaces, their windows enshrouded with an ivy that spoke ill of visitors. The wind compass on the top of the roof croacked upon its turns and the chipped white steps leading to the door did not appeal to the common eye.

Approaching the door, Laurie knocked three times, and the sound echoed through the house.

"It's me, you can answer," she called, twisting the knob. "It's Laurie."

A ruffle was heard from inside and a dark figure appeared from the other side of the door-glass. "What're you doing here?" a deep voice sked, caustic tones rippling the words. "Why have you come back?"

"I'm here to check on you," she said flatly, warming her hands inside the woolen linings of her coat. "Can you open up?" There was a grumble from inside, and the door clocked and creaked open. Laurie took a moment before stepping inside, overwhelmed by the dust that invaded her air. After a few coughs, she looked up and saw a familiar pale skinned face glowing amidst the darkness.

"Kevin," she greeted, extending a hand. "How have you been?"

"I've seen better days," he hissed, his arms folded tightly. "Why're you here, Laurie? To tease me again?"

"I'm here to check on you," she replied, revealing a bag of toileteries, food and utilities from her right hand. "You look like you need them."

"I've survived this long without you," he hissed again, his arms shut so tightly that they began to tremble. "You shouldn't have come. Why did you come?"

"To check on you," she reiterated, placing the bag beside the first step of the staircase. "Don't lie to me," Kevin growled in response through his teeth, nudging the bag away with his boot. "You haven't come to see me in five months so why would you come now?"

"Just take the food," Laurie sighed, exhausted by his insistence. "I just thought you'd want these."

"I don't," he hissed, standing up. "Laurie Collins, why do you do this? I don't deserve your food bags, your company or your charity – so why do you keep coming here? Why do you come here after what I _did_ to you?"

"Life goes on," Laurie replied firmly, pinning him with her blue eyes. "For everyone outside of this house, that is."

"Ah, so I'm now on the list of people you donate your time to, to make yourself feel better, am I?" Kevin asked, a smile stealing his otherwise serious expression. "Are you here for yourself, or _my_self?"

"_Your_self," she responded definitively and without hesitance, pressing her hands further into her pockets. "I wouldn't be dropping off a bag of supplies if I was here for myself."

"I don't see it that way," Kevin snarled. "Doing this charity work makes you feel better about yourself, doesn't it? Laurie the hero! That's what you are! But now that you're the hero Laurie, you don't need to lower yourself to _my_ kinds."

"That's enough Kevin, just take the bag and I'll leave," she said, through a sigh of resignation and exasperation.

"Leaving so _soon_?" he teased back, picking up the bag and digging through it. "But that's not very heroic of you Laurie!"

"I'm not here to be a hero," she articulated, surprised at how long she had maintained her cool amidst Kevin's mud slinging. "I'm just respecting the responsibility I used to feel for you."

"But that's exactly it, Laurie," Kevin sniggered, waving his arms. "You only ever felt _repsonsibility_ for me. It was never anything else. You were only with me to make yourself a _cause_ – a reason for me to live. They were your words, not mine."

Taken aback at how relevant those words were to her former situation with Josh, Laurie remained silent. Kevin went on. "I was only ever your charity – the person you felt as if you could help. You never felt for me the way I felt for you. You thought of me as a nurse would to a patient."

"That's not true," Laurie rebuked, her ease declining. "I cared about you, but then after what you did, it took me months before I could look at you again."

"Oh yes, because your pet bit the hand that fed it, isn't that right?" he giggled sadistically. "You don't need to remind me about _what_ I did. My scars are constant reminders."

Kevin lifted his arms and pulled back the sleeves of his long, black trenchcoat. Turning his wrists, he exposed two fresh, pink scars that circled either one, both almost perfectly shaped in their circumferences. "If coming here is your way of making me remember what I did to you, there's no need. I'll always remember."

"Well which is it then?" Laurie growled, her own emotional scars giving new life to memories that had been long dormant. "Am I here because I feel sorry for you, or because I feel responsible for you? Or is it because you're my charity case, or my target of revenge? You've spat a lot of accusations at me Kevin, now pick one."

"They're not for me to pick," he grumbled, sitting back on the third step of the staircase. "Only _you_ know why you're coming here – back to the person that ruined you."

"You didn't ruin me," she defended. "You _hurt_ me, in more than one way, but you didn't ruin me."

"Yes, well I guess I've saved those honors for somebody else," he sniggered. "Now run along Laurie, you have charities to run and people to help boost your ego. Run along now! Don't let Kevin Ford get in your way!"

Laurie inhibited a tear, and she turned around indignantly, emitting a growl as she did so.

"Now I remember why I stopped coming here," she moaned, fleeing from the estate.

Kevin smiled, but his expression was soon replaced by one of raw anguish.

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For Paras and Victor, the month had dragged on relatively slowly. Well, for Victor anyway. He had kept his promise to Paras and the two were yet to engage in anything _inappropriate_ since their last physical encounter. Paras had come to feel increasingly sympathetic for Victor, but the reptilian assured him that he was fine with the agreement, and that Paras's faith was more important than a physical relationship of any kind. Paras found himself living in awe of Victor, and looking up to him with sublime admiration as the reptilian stayed true to his words without as much as a single complaint.

Exams had restricted the time they could spend together, but the couple still managed to meet up between class-times or after school. Mark continued to antagonize Victor with the name "Vicky," but the reptilian had come to know it as a term of endearment and even came to like it. Victor was much less hostile towards Mark after the advice he received from him. The musical mutant had helped Victor through a time of absolute confusion, and he had given Victor a sense of direction and perspective once again.

Paras had been spending copious amounts of time in the Danger Room, training his abilities and honing them. He found that training was like yoga – it put him at ease, and it cleared his head.

As Paras preoccupied himself in the Danger Room, Mark and Victor sat in the café for their break; their conversation ranged from the 'stupid angle' of Victor's spikes, to the 'girly look' of Mark's headphones. The two teens had become accustomed to light-hearted insults. In fact, it was almost the entire basis of their friendship, and both of them enjoyed the tossed banter between them.

"I'm just wondering," cooed Mark, with a sly grin. "Have you ever poked one of Paras's eyes with those things?" His hand brushed against one of the spikes on the apex of Victor's scaly head. The reptilian rouged, before he hushed Mark and demanded that he keep his voice down. "I mean, one of them is completely crooked," he added, pointing to the awry position of one of Victor's spikes. Victor slapped his hands away and picked up his fork to continue picking at his food. "Hey man, at least I've got a stick to use in the first place," Victor replied with an unexpected guilty grin, causing Mark to gasp melodramatically. "You gross little bastard!" he yelped, causing a few heads to turn. Victor hushed him again. "I was just joking. Don't have a hissy fit," teased the lizard-like student.

"Vicky, I'm not the type for hissy fits, but _you_, on the other hand.." Mark tossed back, stretching nonchalantly.

"Me? What would make _me_ so prone to something as feminine as a _hissy fit_?" asked Victor skeptically, on the border of mirth and uncertainty. Mark chuckled. "You're Victor.. you're king – or should I say _queen_ – of hissy fits."

A wet tongue slapped Mark across the face before it slithered back into Victor's mouth, and the musical mutant croaked in horror as he realized what had just touched him. "I.. cannot believe you just.. you sick little bastard."

"Sorry man," Victor chortled, wiping his mouth and setting his elastic tongue back behind his bottom teeth. "Just don't go having a hissy fit on me."

"Point taken," Mark laughed, picking up his own fork and picking at the food before him. "But you still disgust me."

"That warms my heart to hear," Victor laughed. "In fact, I think it just made my day."

"I'll get you back," Mark mumbled, his expression blessed with a mirthfully deceitful smile.

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"What is the situation with Warren?" asked Beast aloofly, neither wanting nor tolerating the fact he was in the same room as Emma Frost. "Has he made contact with the school since his sentence?"

Emma swayed from side-to-side on her office-chair, her anguished expression beclouded by the cream of a facial-mask. "None," she croaked, her feet anchoring her through a spell of dizziness. "I haven't heard from him in days, or weeks, or mon – I don't know, Hank it's been a while."

"When will you contest the fact he was imprisoned without a trial?" asked Beast, an impatient eyebrow raised. "Why are you so lackadaisical when one of _us_ is suffering as we speak?"

"He's fine," Emma stated monotonically, refuting his concerns. "We live in a democracy, Hank, it's not like we have Nazis hopping off of the walls. He's fine where he is."

"But is he?" asked Hank again, maintaining his composure. "He's in a prison, surrounded by murderers who are unlikely to take kindly to a mutant, wouldn't you agree?"

Emma grumbled. "Yes but there are guards there, nothing can happen to him."

"Who are you attempting to convince?" asked Beast again, pacing around the office. "Me, Warren, or yourself? May I remind you that you are the reason he is there."

Emma stood up. "No Hank, _he_ is the reason he is there. _He_ killed Patricia Parsons, not me. I simply obeyed the law." Her words sliced her diminished conscience before she continued. "You and the rest of the staff can play the blame game with me all you want, but in my shoes you would've done the same thing."

"No need to get defensive," Beast replied, at a level so silent that it made Emma feel as if she was shouting. "There is no denying that Warren killed that woman. But the situation is neither black nor white. Based on the accounts of all three people who were there, Warren acted in self-defense. Despite the fact he is being detained without trial, there are – and were – a number of other alternatives that could have been taken before reporting him to the police yourself."

"Oh really?" Emma laughed bitterly. "Like what?"

"Where to start?" Beast mused, his eyes tilting to the ceiling as he grasped his response. "You did not need to tell them that he was residing in his home in the country-side – the place where they found him, now did you? Under the Fifth Amendment, you have the right to say nothing under scrutiny as you may incriminate yourself – you never pleaded this right for Warren's sake. You could, or could have, demanded that he at least gets a trial, or you could have perhaps facilitated his departure from the country." Hank stopped pacing, and his eyes met Emma's. "There was a slew of alternatives before you, Emma, but you chose the option that would've been the last for anyone else."

Emma fought off her earlier guilt and puffed her face out as a front of anger. "I acted on my conscience, Hank. Warren killed someone and now he's facing the implications of his actions before the law. It's that simple."

"But he's yet to have a trial so it is _not_ before the law," Beast contested, anger pillaring inside of him.

"Even so," Emma sighed with exasperation, "helping him leave the country or pleading the Fifth would've been immoral."

"We are marginalized in society, Emma," Beast responded flatly, annoyed that he had to remind her of that fact. "Sometimes one must realize what is the case and what is at stake. You danced to the tune of society's laws, when society fails to recognize us in _the slightest manner_. What you did to Warren was _wrong_ – he was your friend and you betrayed him, and now you must make things right."

"I should never have told the staff the truth," she mumbled in response, wiping her head. "I need to be alone, Hank. Leave."

Beast took a deep breath, his eyes almost bloodshot as they scrutinized Emma. "Very well Emma. Please consider what I said."

Emma pointed to the door as she pretended to read the pages in front of her. When Beast left, her forehead met the table and she groaned as the weight of the burden on her shoulders intensified.

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

Ganj = a slang term for Marajuana; Santo used it to highlight the hippyesque qualities of Danielle.


	16. Old Friends and New Eyes

"Have you made other friends in the school?" asked Jay, his expression miles from mocking. He and Josh had been up all night discussing general life in Xaviers. Josh thought for a moment, and when neither a name nor a face registered with him, he came to his answer. "No," he stated, with an unregretful shrug of his shoulders, "they're just mutants."

Jay sighed. Clearly Josh's denial was still pulling his strings, he mused. "There isn't a single person, in the entire school, that you do not even think one positive thing about?" he asked, remaining unsurprised that 'no,' was Josh's most likely response.

"No," Josh cursed, causing Jay to almost laugh to himself. The winged mutant figured that he should've been a telepath. "I just go to class with them – doesn't mean I have to like them."

"I am not exactly euphoric to be in an institution either, but at least I can see the beauty of the other people here," replied Jay, his words unchained to judgment.

Josh shrugged again. "Like who?" he asked.

"Where to begin? I thoroughly enjoy the company of Callie Betto," he started, pausing briefly to collect some other names of people whose company he enjoyed. "Paras Gavaskar, Santo Varracco, yourself, Laurie Collins.."

"_Laurie Collins_?" Josh gasped, as if the name were infected by the plague. "You like hanging-out with _her_?"

Jay raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he uttered, cocking his head. "What is the problem with that? Has she done something to you?"

Josh smiled sarcastically, as if to suggest that the winged mutant were delusional, or even demented. "That chick is so pushy. She started talking to me on my first day and I couldn't have gotten away from her fast enough. Then she started giving me a tour around the school and was making all these jokes with me. To make a long story short, I got pissed with her, came back from New York and then magically, she was pissed with me."

"How deeply profound," Jay murmured, an eyebrow curved. "Why was she.. '_pissed_' with you?"

"No idea. She roared about giving me a cause to stay or something. The girl's on crack, I swear."

"Hmm.. That does sound like Laurie," Jay pondered, a thought of the girl painting an endearing smile on his face.

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" Josh asked.

"A good thing. Laurie's been known to look after the vulnerable and the voiceless here. Perhaps she thought of you as the likes."

Not wishing to admit to ever feeling voiceless or vulnerable, Josh came to his own defense. "Her radar is wonky because she barked up the wrong tree with me."

"Yes, I almost pity her for trying," Jay said wryly. Josh chortled. "The sad thing is that I agree with you," he responded dryly.

A lulled laughter soothed the ambience to a silence and both mutants thought to themselves for a moment: Jay, of Laurie and her historically good spirits, and Josh, of the night he accused Laurie of being spoiled and over-indulged – the night she informed him of her deceased father. The thought evoked a shudder, and moments later, an unexpected burst of curiosity from within.

"I have a question," Josh chimed, still half-immersed in his own memories. "What ever happened to Laurie's father?"

The silence transmuted into an awkward one, and Jay peered at Josh, surprised that his friend knew of such a fact. But Jay cracked the silence: "How do you know about that?"

"She told me," Josh replied hastily. "Not in a confidential 'we're best friends,' kind of way, but more in a 'here's the payback for calling me spoiled,' kind of way."

Jay tilted his head and chortled momentarily at Josh's below average attempt of recalling an event. "In English, my friend."

Josh rolled his eyes with a mocking, melodramatic sigh and he rephrased. "She was pretending we had some inside joke when I barely knew her," he explained, regret unfound in his tone. "It annoyed me that she was so happy when I was going through so much. I lashed out at her – maybe a little too harshly – by calling her spoiled. But then she told me that her Dad died in a war moments after that.. talk about bringing me down a notch." The golden mutant huffed, while Jay seemed to sink into his bed.

"She didn't lie," Jay replied, almost somberly. "Laurie has been through a lot, Josh. She hides it impeccably well under the circumstances. Your insult to her was, inaccurate to say the least."

"I gather that now," Josh groaned.

"There are other parts to Laurie's past that you _don't_ know. And it wouldn't be my place to tell them. Just know that you should empathize with her as she's been through a lot also." Jay stopped, and reprimanded Josh through the probing pupils of his eyes. "You owe her an apology, Josh."

"Well, It's good that we agree that she – _what_?"

"_You_ owe _her_ an apology," Jay repeated, his voice unwavering. "She deserves better than that."

"No way! Whose side are you on?" Josh blurted back, surprise – or perhaps guilt – striking him.

Since he had lowered his walls for Jay, Josh had found that he was more prone to emotions such as guilt, regret and fear, and thus, he almost wished that Jay hadn't debased him for his accusations towards Laurie. Josh knew that if someone had said 'you've never seen hardship in your life' to him, his reaction would've been violent, above all else. In fact, Laurie's restrained, if not dignified, reaction was nothing short of commendable under the circumstances.

Josh sighed. "I'm not making promises," he warned, dismissively showing his palms. "_But_. And that's a _big_ but, _if_ I see her and manage to have a brief conversation with her, I _might_ mention it in passing."

"Don't do it for my sake," Jay said, almost with a scoff. "Do it for your own." Josh tumbled down a few levels and conceded to his roommate's suggestions. With a stretch, he pushed his minor guilt from himself with a soothing puff of air. "I _might_. Depends on my mood."

"That's all I can ask for," replied Jay with a smile, his face contorting with the lift of his brow, before his mental attention was drawn else-where. "Have you fabricated another theory pertaining to Warren's departure?" he asked, rather arbitrarily, his expression rejuvenated upon the new topic.

"That reminds me," Josh mumbled, unnerved as the face of Jaeda Lee, or also known as Jubilation, crisped the voids of his mind. "You know that girl that sits beside me in English?"

"Jubilation?"

"Yeah, her," Josh replied. "Is she able to turn invisible or anything like that?"

"Jubilation? No," Jay replied, "Why? What is the object of your concern?"

Josh blinked blankly, and Jay rephrased. "What's bothering you?"

"Oh. I think she knows about New York, about Warren, about Paddy Parsons, about everything," he surmised icily, almost shuddering as her frosted eyes flicked open upon the walls of his mind.

"That can't be right," Jay mumbled, repeating himself as Josh asked to hear what he had said. "That's not right," he reiterated, and Josh started. "Well she told Megan, Max and Santo that they were all wrong when they were exchanging rumors."

"Perhaps she is misguided by a _different_ rumor?"

"No, no," Josh sighed, frustrated that he couldn't explain how he felt as if she knew. He just _felt_ it – an innate human ability to sense the certainty of her words and demeanor – that was the best he could word it, and Jay cocked his head, as Josh expected.

"Josh, I promise you, she cannot know. It's not possible," the roommate assured. "There is just no way."

"How do you know that?" Josh questioned. "How do you know she didn't follow us to New York and watch us when that crazy woman attacked Warren? How do you know she didn't sneak into Emma's office and listen to Warren explain it all to her? I'm telling you Jay, she knew. She _definitely_ knew."

"Josh, we can end this debate," Jay sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jubilation Lee did _not_ follow us to New York, or watch our encounter with Paddy Parsons, because Jubilation Lee is _blind_."

"She's _blind_?" Josh gasped, standing to his feet and remaining silent as an unexpected feeling trickled within. "Would it be bad if I told you I was relieved?"

"Yes," Jay grumbled, his morality speaking. "But I can empathize with the fact you feel that way. It would be worrying to think that she knows what we know."

"To put it mildly."

Josh sat back down and threw his head onto his pillow as he watched the ceiling, its swirls and patterns cajoling him into the motions of his thoughts. Josh was always so easily drawn into himself.

How did he not catch that Jaeda was blind? How could he explain that feeling as if she had _seen_ the events in New York? What was it about her that made him feel as if she had invaded his knowledge, or even the knowledge beyond his own – perhaps that of Emma's or Warren's? Josh trembled, almost forgetting that Jay had not suggested an end to the conversation.

"Jay?" Josh asked, not moving from his position, but his roommate didn't reply and Josh sat up; Jay seemed lost in thoughts of his own, a sight that made Josh feel a little vulnerable: seeing the stronger one of them with a concern-tainted expression on his face was rather unnerving. He trembled again.

"Jay, all okay?" he asked.

The winged mutant remained quiet, and Josh spoke up again. "Jay, are you okay?"

The young adult looked up, his countenance belying nothing beyond the angst and distress that darkened his defined features. Josh trembled for the third time, and Jay finally spoke, his voice huskier and earthier than before.

"Josh," he addressed, his eyes shadowed. "What if Jaeda is a telepath?"

For the fourth time, Josh trembled.

**†††††††††††††††††††**

After the chirps of his alarm catapulted him from bed, through the halls, and into room twelve at 7am , Josh barely had time to stop by the café to get something to eat. The diving students were required to wear their swimsuits beneath their clothes before they got to the water, but Josh didn't even have time to throw on a t-shirt, or put his shoes on properly. His classmates laughed at him as he waddled into the meeting room with only his shorts on, and he did his best to feign ignorance.

Their mirth – which he felt was at his expense – was a cold donator of an epiphany to the healer as he realized that many of the students we're not fond of him as per his public outburst in the café on day one.

_Are they still hung up about that?_

He bent down and fixed his shoes, tied his laces, and stood up again. The others had moved their interests along, and Josh found himself sitting – alone – at a table at the front of the class.

The teacher arrived moments later and the early murmurings lulled away upon the intensity of her presence. At first apathetic, Josh flicked his eyes up, before he was met with long, white locks that framed a long, dark neck that supported a face of exotic derivation. Unlike many of the staff members, Josh didn't feel panes of over-worked stress emitting from her, but rather soothing breezes of tranquility, certainty, and an innate, sublime delicacy of peace. When threatened by a mutant's beauty, intelligence or kindness, Josh tended to seek faults within them to bolster the theory of Blair that stated that there was no beauty in the mutant race. With the exception of Jay – who Josh denied out-right of being a mutant as the others – for the first time, he couldn't bring himself to find a single impurity within his teacher. Attempting to do so would've been like cutting the head of an untouched, tropical flower.

"_Even Tropical flowers can be poisonous," _said the voice of Blair inside his head, but through a deep breath, Josh aligned the teacher with Jay – a rare exception to the treacherous race of mutants. His former mentor's voice leaked away, for now, and the woman spoke:

"My children, you never fail to ascend me to awe," she promulgated, a warming smile between her cheeks. "Diving is not an easy sport. It can hurt, it can invoke fear, it can even make one dizzy upon the cliff-top." She gently rested herself on the corner of a table, her hands joined upon her lap. "But there is something about the whistling air around you, the embrace of the amorphous waters below you, and the bristling touch of the land as you climb to repeat the dive once again, that gives you an undying passion for something more." The students smiled; her words a melody. "Many of you already know this. It's why you're here, no? You wish to feel the sensation of diving – the maelstrom of fear and stimulation warring within? The feeling that makes your fingertips tingle alongside the rapid pumps of your heart? Is it not?" she asked the class, her smile poking higher on one side than the other. "I regret that this is my first day with you. We had hoped the maintenance of the pool would have been completed by now, but it has not, and so we have made other arrangements. I am thrilled to announce that we will be cliff-diving today."

The reaction was varied: some looked at each other, fear and uncertainty painted on the visages; other grinned devotedly and fisted the air as thoughts of penetrating fresh water from an eroded cliff filled them with passion and excitement.

"_That_!" exclaimed the teacher, pointing at the crowd of students. "These emotions you are feeling: Fear, excitement, uncertainty, zeal .. this is the same fusion that will strike you at the cliff-top. Fear of the unknown, yet excitement to meet it in the face, is what allows you to crave for more. There's a diver in each and every one of you."

The students were put at ease, and twenty-two chests exhaled heavily. "Are we all ready to commence?" she asked, stepping from the desk. "Follow me to the bus – we have a thirty minute drive ahead of us."

The class emptied, and Josh was the last to leave as the students sifted through the door. "My child," she called, causing him to run around and melt under her eyesight. "Are you new here?" she asked. "Yes," he replied instantly, aware that he wasn't completely in control of himself under her beauty. "I.. I came here over a month ago."

"Then I suppose a welcome is over-due. I am glad to see that you have expressed an interest in diving."

"I did it in my last school," he replied, still feeling rather unworthy to be in her company. "It's my favorite sport."

"You have good taste," she said fervently, a smile settling him. "Excuse me, my child, I never caught your-"

"Josh Foley," he blurted, almost slapping himself in the head for interrupting her. "Sorry. My name is Josh Foley."

The teacher giggled faintly and her eyes glittered under the morning sunlight from outside. "I am honored to meet you, Josh," she said. "My name is Ororo."

**†††††††††††††††††††††††††**

The bus arrived at Palenville shortly after 9am. One or two of the students halted their stiffness by walking up and down the row between the bus seats as the journey proved to be much longer than thirty minutes. Ororo sat at the front of the bus, chatting to the bus-driver while the students shuffled at the back. Josh sat alone and did his best to get some rest before they had arrived; he leaned against the window to his right, but each time the bus hit a speed-bump or pot-hole, his head would jitter against the glass, causing his eyes to pop open. Just as his consciousness slipped, a cheer electrocuted him and he sat upright, his head turning to seek the reason for the excitement.

"Welcome to Palenville everyone!" Ororo blazoned, standing up. "Have any of you been to Fawns Leap before?" She was met with silence, and with that, she went on. "It's a waterfall that's a Mecca for cliff-divers like myself. Because it rained all last week, the waters are high and are perfect for jumping."

The cheer grew louder and Josh found himself contributing to it while Ororo giggled at the sight of the elated students. "Now I know you're all as excited as I am, so lets get off this bus and follow the signs for Fawns Leap!" A steamy sigh signaled the mechanical opening of the bus's doors and Ororo headed out, a slew of students behind her.

When Josh got off the bus, he was met by a green wilderness. Birds flew above his head, and the squishy soil beneath his feet reminded him that he was in the wilds. The trees hid a world of their own as they tilted against each other and breathed in minimal pillars of light, so that the forest behind was gently illuminated by a Pakistani green chromaticism of reflective moss and earth.

Earthy pine, smoky oak and the smell of undulating fresh water wafted past the healer, and he felt, in some ways, at home. Not a longing for his former mansion or life on the West Coast, but rather at home as if he had found something greater than himself and wished to be part of it. The sky was azure and it blurred the tips of the trees to create an illusion of infinity to their wooden tips, and Josh gazed up at them in awe. He had never seen trees so big - the tallest one he had seen at any prior stage was a palm tree. Ororo asked that the students follow her and they did, in sporadic groupings and lines of friends and acquaintances. Josh, of course, walked alone, his attention stolen by rustlings in the bushes or unfamiliar chirps from above.

The group ambled on at a faster pace to him. His attention was so utterly stolen by the nature that he never noticed the group disappear upon descending a dip in the path. He watched the sky above, where the birds hopped and danced around each other with zeal and motivation, and their wings sliced through the air as they glided from the sun to the land with songs of laughter and freedom. Josh felt envious that Jay could indulge in such activities; the absence of burden in the birds' short, delicate lives made the healer wish that he had developed wings instead of healing powers. Perhaps the reason Jay was so clear-minded and level-headed was because he could ameliorate his concerns through thoughtful flights around the campus and beyond; perhaps that was how Jay was able to be so patient with him, because at the end of the day, he could always transcend his earthly problems by propelling himself above them. Josh smiled. The birds reminded him that all was not lost – he had a friend, and they were inspirational reminders of that.

His pupils were averted to a different chirping from the direction of a prickly pine tree, and perched upon one of its hand-shaped branches, was an acquaintance of Josh's. Her avian eyes glittered with expressions of thanksgiving and she sang a song that added mellifluous harmonies to those of the birds in the sky. Duly standing in disbelief, Josh gaped in awe, his mouth dropping slightly.

"Azura?" he asked, his bag pack almost slipping from his shoulders. Her reply was manifested through a melody and Josh chortled indefinitely. "I can't believe.. out of every bird in the world.."

Azura's pitch ascended until she was the only performer in Josh's leg of the woods, and the healer watched, listened and felt her in ways beyond the senses. A connection – defying the boundaries between humans and animals – spoke of their mutual gratitude: She had saved him, as much as he had saved her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, diverting from the path and passing through the threshold of the trees. He was touched that he had given the bird a second shot at life, and now, she mirrored the queen of the forest. She did not back away upon his advancements and instead, sang louder as he neared. Face-to-face, Josh watched the bird whistle and trill, her beak separating and her tongue wrapping around each note to warp them in the manner she pleased. Josh wished that Jay had been there to witness it with him – the mutant had clearly been passionate about the bird's recovery.

Azura nuzzled her beak into her neon plumage, flattening it to show a larger bump upon her stomach. It took the mutant a minute to realize what he saw before it registered with him and his face gave way to a widened grin.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, awestruck that he had not only saved her – but her children, her lineage, as well. The parturient bird whistled again, her glistening black eyes probing the mutant. "Let me touch them," Josh said, raising his hands. "I'll make sure they stay healthy."

The bird did not protest as Josh's golden hands gently pressed into the layers of her feathers, above the dwelling place of her offspring, and she trilled again as she felt a soothing energy feed into her chicks. When the healer finished, he dropped his hands slowly and brought his eyes back to the bird.

"I have to go now," he informed regretfully. "I've probably lost the others and I should go find them. I won't forget you Azura, although I have a feeling you'll never be too far away."

The bird remained on the branch for a moment before releasing one last melody and taking off, her head briefly viewing Josh one last time before she ventured off between the gaps in the foliage of the emerald distance.

The mutant took a deep breath and remembered the moment Jay had brought him to the bird. She represented a change for him: The day he learned the nature – and power – of his abilities. She was his first patient, the first living thing to trust him, and the chink in the armor of his original, undying denial. Seeing her again reminded the mutant that she was more than just a bird, but a symbol. She was a symbol not only of the obstacles he had over-come so far, but also a clairvoyant suggestion that, perhaps, another change was to come.

**†††††††††††††††††††††††**

Following the signs for Fawns Leap, Josh managed to navigate through the windy paths of the forest before he was met with a mutant-littered waterfall, towering above him with liquefied force and crashing into the swallowing inhalations of the plunge pool below. Ororo maintained order amongst the students, permitting each one to dive after the other. Sarah Vale, for example, stood wobbly legged at the top of the corroded cliff-top, her arms above her and toes peaking over the edge.

"Bend your legs and leap," was what Josh heard Ororo announce to her, and the girl acquiesced and flopped over the frontier, her legs clapping and swaying behind her. With an ungraceful plop into the water, her head emerged and her expression told of her pride upon realizing that she had, in fact, survived.

"I want to do it again!" she declared, giving hope to other nervous students before paddling to the banks and pulling herself out. Ororo's face lit up with joy and she called down to the girl. "You were great, Sarah, that's the best you've ever dived!"

At least she was being nice about the inelegant dive, Josh mused, as he paced around the banks and ascended the cliff-side. The surface was soily and was kissed with a thin layer of soft grass that ticked the soles of Josh's feet as he ascended. He halted at the turn of the acme, before a line of classmates waiting to leap from the cliff. Ororo was at the front of the line still waving students on.

The rush of the waterfall and the chirps of the birds told of the vivid nature of the place and Josh, once again, became distracted by the comforting, natural melody around him. A coterie of girls assembled behind him amidst his distractions but he never noticed. By the time he had broken from his trance, he was apparently at the front of the line and standing beside Ororo.

"You've done this before, my child?" she asked, a confidence-invoking smile befalling her. The verde backdrop of the green forest and dark blue sky behind her, exhibited the woman nomadically, or even tribal in her agrestal beauty.

"Fine thanks, and you?" He halted his words, and cursed inwardly. "I mean, yeah.. _Yes_! I've done this before."

Ororo giggled faintly and denoted Josh to assume his diving position over the cliff-side with a delicate sway of her arm. "This is your moment."

Arms up, fingers pointed, toes curled, and back slightly curved, Josh took a chest-expanding breath of air as the gurgling, frothy waters foamed beneath him and the roar of the waterfall and the slurps of the plunge pool echoed in his left ear. With Ororo and the proceeding group of girls in his peripheral vision, Josh bent his knees and burst from the cliff-side. The air whistled past his ears and slipped over his back as he gathered momentum and the suspended moisture accumulated in the corners of his eyes as he twisted his body and successfully twirled in mid air, before piercing the water with an aquatic crackle.

Embraced by an exoskeleton of white bubbles, the healer allowed the cold water to bite his skin before he resurfaced, met with cheers from Ororo, but conversely, apathetic stares from the students.

"Wonderful, beautiful, effortless," she called, her arms in the air. "You're a natural, my child, a natural. Beautiful." Josh reddened and paddled to the bank and pulled himself out, but Ororo was not finished. "Where did you learn to dive like this?" she asked from the pinnacle of the cliff.

"My last school," he voiced back, two hands cupping his mouth whilst feeling proud to be the object of her adulation. "It was my best sport."

"I could not doubt it," she responded with a smile. "You're a natural, Joshua Foley, a born natural."

The teenager smiled; he hadn't received praise from anyone since his inauguration into mutanthood. Receiving it was strange, yet definitively welcome, to say the least. When the teacher's attention was directed to the next student, Josh spotted a boulder beneath the sunlight on his side of the banks. Climbing it, he settled on its heated surface, the change from cold waters to molten rock, a melting experience on his body. The divers continued to leap one after the other and the healer could count the intervals between each one based on the sound of the breaking water – a testament to Ororo's apparent meticulous time keeping.

Glued to the rock and unable to move his body away from the physical elysium, Josh heard Ororo call that the next dive would be the last. Deciding that that fact made it worth watching, he tore his head from the heated cajoles of the rock and peered at the top of the cliff.

He didn't expect what he saw. He didn't expect it at all. Gazing upon the wilderness as if it were her own, was a blonde hair, blue eyed girl in diving position atop the apex. The wind gently tussled her hair against her neck and her elevated arms exposed the features of her body to the world below. The sounds of the birds muted, the groans of the waterfall silenced, Josh's attention fixed itself solely on the unexpected beauty of the girl – the woman – on the cliff.

Flicking from her position, she descended with graceful beauty and blessed the water with her embrace as she met it. Josh's eyes followed her the entire way down and they popped out further when he heard _who_ the girl was.

"Well done Laurie," called Ororo, a smile between her cheeks. "Elegant beyond words. Impeccable." Laurie waved in response and pulled herself to the bank. Josh's mouth, meanwhile, dropped while he stared at her, dumbfounded that _Laurie Collins_ had attracted his attention. Still gazing as she paced past the rock, their eyes met and Josh flicked his away.

"Your dive was good," she noted, the boulder behind her. "Looks like I have competition."

With no reply, the healer's eyes turned inwards and he asked himself what was happening.

"Erm.. Likewise," he croaked or blurted – it didn't really matter; he was about as suave as a fish-wife in her presence anyway. Laurie turned around and took a step towards the boulder.

"Where did you learn to dive like that?" she asked. Josh could hear acerbic tones in her voice and he remembered earlier when Jay had strongly advised him to apologize to her.

"The West coast," was his awkward reply. "I mean, California. I mean, Los Angeles. No, I mean, my teacher from my last school."

"Right," Laurie drawled, her patience already at its end. "Erm, see you around then."

"Have a good night!" Josh replied, the sun in his eyes. Laurie nodded curtly and backed away slowly.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

The healer broke out in goose-bumps as he recalled his brief conversation with Laurie. By the time she had mingled with the other students, Josh had analyzed how their encounter had ended, and therefore highlighted how truly strange, vague and clownish he must've come across.

_Awkward. _Perhaps an apology to Laurie wasn't an alien concept after all.

As the noon began to settle, and the birds began to nest, Ororo had no sooner rounded the students up before she was leading them down the same path that had brought them to Fawns Leap in the first place. Josh followed the crowd duly, and thought it a change that he was in the middle of the crowd and not yards ahead or meters behind. When Laurie Collins strolled past him, he realized that he had forgotten that he had been entirely surrounded by mutants during every minute of the excursion.

He didn't flinch. He didn't shudder. He simply walked, and followed the movement of the surrounding people.

The people.

The _people_.

.. Talk about coming a long way.


	17. Love Save the Empty

Feeling significantly rejuvenated and motivated after his zeal-inspiring dive from the cliff the day before, Josh rose from bed without as much as a yawn. The scar between the curtains permitted the light to enter in the form of one, long pillar and by looking at it, Josh knew that it was time to get up.

Thankfully Jay had remembered to close the window that night. The mutant tended to leave at all hours of the night and would often leave it gaping wide behind him, allowing the frost-bitten winds to swirl into the room during the dusk.

September had matured with unkept promises of sun and snow. Each day carried a different climate as the transition between summer and fall proved rather inconsistent. The mornings started off with whorls of pink and orange upon a blood-red sky, while a light haze concealed the immediate horizon. As the day rotated to noon, the sun would gift its warmth to the land before either remaining as such, or becoming obnubilated by an ocean of dense, grey clouds.

But the constant of the climate was always seen at night, when the sun fled behind the distant fields beyond Salem and pulled the clouds with it as a sliding glass-door, and thus opening to the eyes of the population, a shapeless screen of comets and stars.

The healer briefly glanced at the opposite bed; Jay was not in the room, his only existence seen in the creases of his bed-sheets. '_Must've had an early start through the window,'_ thought Josh to himself, seeing that the paper-clip he placed within the hinges of his door was still present; it was his way of assuring himself that Blair hadn't been stalking him and wandering into his room without his knowledge. Paranoia was often man's greatest security.

After stretching and throwing a shirt on, Josh jumped slightly when he heard a shrill beeping from within his own dorm. The sound was muffled and barely managed to penetrate what sounded like the coverings of a material over it. Patting his bed and eyeing the shelves to no avail, Josh searched Jay's sheets and found that the sound became clearer. He lifted up his roommate's pillow and lying upon the Egyptian cotton was Jay's mobile phone, preaching the hour to arise. It wasn't until Josh silenced the phone did he notice a frameless picture perched to the left of the device.

'_Who's that?' _he asked himself, picking it up and viewing the image curiously before checking his surroundings to make sure he couldn't hear his roommate returning. The picture was that of a young woman, perhaps a year or two to Josh's senior. Despite it being black and white, Josh could see that she had brown hair, tied up upon her head. Her lips were dark amidst the taint of no-color, and her eyes were large and almond-shaped.

Questioning whether Jay had mentioned an important female in his life before, Josh discerned that the picture was of great sentimental value to his roommate, based on the place he had put it.

Guiltily eschewing his disappointment that Jay had not confided in him as he had done for him, Josh flattened the phone and the picture beneath the pillow once again and ambled to his own bed upon hearing a key fiddle within the lock of the main door. The paper-clip dropped from the hinges and Jay appeared before the threshold.

"Good morning." A teeth-shining smile slicked itself across his face as he spilled through the entrance while Josh took a nervous gulp.

"Did you not sleep well?" asked Jay upon seeing a worried expression plaguing his friend. "Did I wake you when I departed this morning?"

"No," Josh croaked, his eyes briefly scanning Jay's pillow to make sure it looked the same prior to his invasion of his roommate's personal belongings. "I just haven't, erm, fully woken up yet."

"Ah, I see." Jay moved to his bed and aligned the pillow behind his head, his hands quickly coming to rest beneath it. "What are your plans for today?"

His worries sweeping away upon Jay's ignorance, Josh stood up and stretched. "I'll go to a few classes and maybe go for a jog," he replied. "And you?"

"Callie apprised me that she would be waiting for me by the tree and so I promised her that I'd meet her there later."

Josh would've responded accordingly had it not been for a familiar, yet dooming, continuation of the digital chirpings from beneath the muffling pillowcase and instantly, he fretted that Jay would notice something different about the arrangement of the phone and the picture in relation to each other.

Jay strategically pulled the phone from beneath the pillow without revealing the picture, and he silenced the alarm as Josh sighed with relief.

"That's peculiar," he eventually intoned after a minute of silence, his brows knitted as he seemed to investigate something about his device. His tone made Josh cringe before he went on. "My alarm appears to have been silenced once before," he said, confirming his declaration to himself by the information on the screen.

Josh froze and smiled awkwardly. "Well, yes. About that.."

"I suppose you saw more than my phone," said the winged mutant, his voice low and eyes darkened beneath the shadow of his tilted face. Josh thought of some way he could say he saw only the phone despite it being right beside the picture, but there was no purpose in lying; Jay would see right through it.

"I saw a picture," said Josh uncomfortably. "I didn't dwell on it, I just heard your alarm and happened to see it when I went to turn it off. You don't need to tell me about it. If it's personal to you then don't worry about it."

"Yes it is personal to me," responded Jay, almost with a growl. "And it bothers me that you handled it."

Taken aback, Josh sat himself on his own bed to make himself at Jay's level and he locked his hands together between his knees.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just wanted to turn off the alarm, I didn't know there'd be a picture there."

"That picture is my business and my business only. I do not appreciate that you have defied that."

"I never defied it," Josh responded defensively, "How was I supposed to know you'd place a picture there? I mean, who sleeps on top of their valuables?"

"I do," growled Jay, his fists clenching. "And my reasons for that are not for your ears. Learn to respect belongings that are not your own."

"What was I supposed to do?" asked Josh, his familiar bitter front assuming his role, "Just allow the damn thing to beep away all day? I'm sorry that _you_ put your picture there."

"I don't need your sarcasm," Jay growled. "You were dressed when I arrived, you shouldn't have concerned yourself with the trivial noise of an alarm when you were ready to leave anyway."

Josh groaned and his knuckles whitened as his fingers came to press against the fabric of the bed sheets. "Get the hell over yourself and quit being so whiny."

"The irony!" Jay cried out, "The person who knocks himself to the floor in a pool of blood on his _third_ day is calling me whiny?"

Josh stood up and embedded the tips of his fingers into the flesh of his palms.

"What's your problem?" he hissed, his mind becoming notoriously bemused by rage. "It's a fucking picture and I saw it, get over it!"

"It's more than a picture," Jay shouted defensively. "It's everything to me and I would appreciate if you would refrain from diminishing its importance."

"How the _hell_ was I supposed to know that? All I did was turn off your stupid alarm and you've made something out of it – I had no idea that it means anything. You call Jaeda the telepath when you're speaking to me as if I'm one," Josh responded angrily, although a little surprised as to how together he was beneath his friend's anger. The old Josh would've just punched him to the floor by now; but jokes aside, that was still a possibility if his friend kept up his arbitrary animosity over a triviality.

"You say it like it's _just_ a picture – if only you knew." Jay's faced remained tilted and his eyes eclipsed, the only viewable feature being his lips, which snarled acerbically as he punctuated each word with a husky spit.

"It _is_ just a picture," Josh responded, his closed posture bursting as his arms flung to his sides in exasperation. A bitter silence soured the ambience and ensconced itself for one moment longer than what was sufferable. Josh's heavy, deflating exhalation brought a change, and he spoke at a lower, calmer tone to his previous level. "If you expect me to sit and ask you what your issues are and give you a shoulder to cry on, then sorry, because I'm not doing that. What I'm _going_ to do is leave and let you sort out whatever your problem is."

Feeling surprisingly dignified, Josh turned for the egress and shut the door behind him despite a breathy plea from Jay to the contrary from behind.

As the healer paced down the hall, his mind filled with worry, regret and sadness. What if the person he had come to trust wasn't the person he thought he was? What if he handled the situation wrongly? What if he had lost the one person that he retained some value for in the school?

The only thing that was for certain though, was that Josh found himself genuinely concerned for his friend and such a concept was a long time coming. He hadn't worried for anyone else for what felt like forever and he had almost become alien to the idea.

_I'm concerned for a mutant? _he asked himself apprehensively, wondering what Blair would think of him if he knew. _What's happened to me?_

Remembering back to his first day when he promised himself that he'd never integrate with the scum that is the mutant population, Josh felt an iota of guilt from within – a feeling of slight regret that he had once felt that way. Times were changing; times had changed.

So why was his roommate so precious about a picture? What was it about that girl that set something off within him? Why was Jay deaf to his explanation? Each question plagued the healer as his concern for the person who was now his closest friend, obliterated all else that sought his attention.

He couldn't lose Jay. It really was as simple as that.

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

Palms in eyes, or eyes in palms, and elbows over knees, or knees under elbows, Jay sat on the edge of his bed, his mind swarming with confusion. He didn't mean to get so defensive with Josh, something exploded inside of him at the thought of foreign hands upon Julia – _the_ Julia. He knew his friend was innocent and he also knew that he didn't deserve to receive the brunt of his unexpected bitterness. Jay knew that he was usually relaxed; he had been told so by other mutants who asked him why he was, as in their words, 'laid back.' Seldom would they see Jay fret in any situation. In fact, Jay mused that they probably thought he was a go-with-the-wind middle-American type of guy, with no worries beyond the timing of the harvest or the health of the livestock. And although, to an extent, those labels did apply to him and his lax demeanor, the main cause of his ways was not of a regional or cultural doing, but more so of a personal one.

After what had happened to Julia, Jay had met the highest standard of fear; the highest standard of sadness, and the highest standard of regret to the point that everything else paled in comparison. When holders of uncompleted homework trembled under the wrath of an indignant teacher, Jay would find himself yawning; authority didn't scare him, and mundane obstacles of life simply went over his head, and that was the reason for his languorous tendency. He was just immune and was thus, undeterred by the issues that bothered normal human-beings.

Although being unaffected by the negativities of life sounds like a positive state to be in, the hardship and undying pain that the mutant endured to be in that state, greatly outweighed the minor pros that eventual came of it. Others viewed him as relaxed and nonchalant, but he viewed himself as broken, or at best, on the mend. He would never say it to anyone, but the fact he did not remotely care for the mostly meek hardships of his classmates was another reason for his under-reactive ways. Without trying, he became known as a neutral party and many other students would confide in him and ask for advise, under the belief that he was of a clear-mind and wisdom beyond his years.

If only they knew, he always mused, that he was far from their definitions entirely, they would not seek his advise as they did on what felt like a daily basis. He respected those who knew pain, and regretfully, yet innately, he removed his internal concern for those who did not. Perhaps that was why he and Josh had become close? They both knew loss – albeit different forms of loss – and they both knew loneliness and isolation better than anyone else of their age.

Every day he was haunted by the memories of Julia as every day Josh had been haunted by the heavy remembrance of his parents' vacuity of true love and concern. Josh didn't deserve the treatment he received and Jay's stomach wretched as he realized what he had said.

But for a brief moment he felt proud at how well Josh had handled it. The Joshua Foley of only one month ago would've have tackled Jay to the floor for teasing him as he did, but his roommate simply stated his side of the story and left with conviction and dignity – two things Jay felt the absence of from within himself, and two things Joshua Foley never showed much of, until now.

Josh showed that he was a good person. The fact he didn't react as he perhaps would have instinctively, showed that he valued what they had; he valued the long nights of deep, meaningful conversations that traveled to Josh's past, the people in his life and the places that stayed with him throughout his teenage years. It showed that Josh, perhaps, appreciated having a person to spill his problems to and express his indignation towards something or someone to. It was Josh's long-term expression of anger and sadness that bettered him as a person and allowed him to prove himself upon Jay's petty remarks moments ago. And Jay had possibly broken everything they had built with one pathetic, trivial outburst, and his stomach churned at the thought.

Was this what Julia would have wanted? Looking _in_ – not _at_ – the picture of her beneath his pillow, Jay discerned that it was time to own up to his mistakes and that maybe, just _maybe_, it was time to move on.

But only time would tell.

**††††††††††††††††††††††**

"Don't be nervous janaam," consoled Paras, his hand on Victor's fore-arm. "They'll understand. It won't be as difficult as you think it is." The violet mutant smiled at his partner beside him, but Victor only bit his lip nervously after having received a phone-call from his parents imploring him to meet up with them for the day.

"I don't know what they'll say," he groaned, wiping his hand across his eyes. "What if they completely disown me?"

Paras, careful not to break the rule established between he and Victor, wrapped his arm around his roommate's back and signaled that he was a pillar of support. "If they do," he said, "then I am here when you get back. But Victor, if you are not ready to tell them –"

"No," he interjected firmly, propping his chin up, "It's about time they know, about me, about us, I'm not hiding what we have from them anymore."

Paras smiled but soon allowed his countenance to drop. "But Janaam," he sighed, "they have been through a lot over the last few years. Perhaps for their sake you should keep it to yourself."

"I've been through a lot too and if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be here today. I owe it to you to tell them."

Paras sighed and blinked a few times as Victor told himself what was the right path to take. He couldn't make up the reptilian's mind for him, but only suggest alternatives instead. He did want Victor to tell his parents about them, and what they had, but he didn't want to do it at the mercy of unnecessary burden or stress.

"Alain has just started university, Janaam, and they will be burdened with the bureaucracy that comes alongside such events. Perhaps next time."

"But it's _always_ next time," Victor sighed, facing Paras. "Every time I visit them, we agree that _next time_ is when I'll tell them, but it never happens. They need to know, once and for all."

"But –"

"No Paras, there's always going to be something going on that is stressful – they're parents, they're always stressed, so it's about time I break the news to them," Victor confirmed, standing to his feet with a thin layer of courage upon the exterior. "I'm going to do it Par."

Paras acquiesced. Perhaps he was right, perhaps it was time to tell them and be open with them. He and Victor were together for sake of being together, not for any benefit beyond mutual understanding and adoration of each other. Sex, money and society played no roles in their unity; Victor treasured Paras and Paras treasured Victor, there were no alternative factors beyond, what one could call, love.

"Can we practice it?" Victor asked, and Paras raised an eyebrow. Victor realized that his sentence had been understood out of context and so he elaborated quickly. "I mean, the conversation with my parents! Can we practice it?"

Paras smiled and unwrapped his arm from his partner. "Shall I be your mother or father?"

"Mother first," Victor replied, "she's the emotional one."

"Understood. Victor it is so nice to see you!" exclaimed Paras, over-acting his role and hugging Victor duly. A little put off, Victor huffed mirthfully.

"You suck at being a mom," he remarked, a wry smile blessing him.

Paras chortled and guiltily clapped his hands together. "Nature didn't intend for me to be one," he replied with a chuckle.

"Well then you suck at being an actor," was Victor's witty reply, innocently smiling thereafter. Paras laughed and tried again, less bombastic than before.

" Yo Victor, long time no see, man," said Paras, and Victor swayed his hands.

"No, no, I can't take you seriously when you make my mom sound like a gangster. Try again."

Paras bellowed out in laughter, his accent coming in the way of any urban sound whatsoever. "Hi Victor," he cooed, before ditching the role briefly: "Is that better?"

"Much," replied Victor, settling into the moment and straightening his back and clearing his throat. "Hi Mom. How have you been? How are Alain, Vaughan, Zev and Harrison?" he asked.

"They're fine," replied Paras, feigning a higher voice. "Alain is just starting university now."

"How does he like it? Has he made many friends?"

"To the point!" Paras whisper-interjected,

"Shh I'm getting there!" replied Victor. "Actually Mom, I need to tell you something."

"Yes?" asked Paras, a nod of encouragement towards Victor.

"I'm gay."

Paras pinched the bridge of his nose upon the conclusion of the roleplay and Victor waved his arms in question. "What? What did I do wrong?" he asked.

"You did exceptionally well if you're wishing to put your mother into cardiac arrest," replied Paras, holding back a smile. "You were overly blunt."

"Well what do you want me to do? Just talk about the damn weather before I go into it?"

"These topics are like haggling. You must first dance around it before you dive into what it is you truly want. If you state it out-right, you will be ripped off."

"Your examples suck as much as your acting," snapped Victor light-heartedly and Paras grinned. "I am no merchant, nor am I an actor, so I deserve a pass."

"No, _I_ deserve a pass," coughed Victor. "A pass from whatever movie you star in."

"I'll have you know that Bollywood has come to be highly regarded as an international-"

"I rest my case."

"Very well," Paras mumbled wryly, "I admit that my acting skills are non-existent in our role-play, but you, my friend, need to refine your ability to know when to say something."

"Fine. How should I go about it, according to the mighty Paras Gavaskar?" asked Victor sarcastically.

"Let us swap roles," the armored mutant began, "I will be you and you will be your mother. Listen to how I bring the conversation to the topic, rather than the topic to the conversation."

Victor rolled his eyes and tilted his head back. "Hi Victor, it's so great to see you," the reptilian mumbled monotonically before receiving a nudge from Paras.

"Hello moth- Mom, how have you been? I've missed you."

"I'd never say that," Victor interrupted, only to be shushed by the other actor. "Erm, I've missed you too –"

"End your sentence with _'honey_,'" demanded Paras.

"Over my dead body."

"Then I will not continue," he insisted, entwining his fingers on his lap.

"Ugh, fine," Victor conceded, throwing his head back. "I've missed you too hon-ey."

"How is everyone at home?" asked Paras.

"Fine, fine. How is school? Are you enjoying your last year?"

"Very much so," said Paras, smiling. "The people are very nice, and most importantly, they're open-minded."

Seeing where Paras was bringing the conversation, Victor smiled before continuing. "Oh? That's an interesting priority," he remarked, still being his mother.

"Well it's important for me," said the violet mutant. "Under my circumstances, it's essential."

"Under your circumstances? What's going on?"

"Mothe- Mom, I hope you understand when I tell you that I'm not attracted to women.. See how I did that?" Paras said, breaking his role at the end of the sentence. Conceding, Victor laughed before punching his mate on the shoulder. "Okay I admit, you play a better Victor than I do. Wanna tell them for me?"

"Oh how did you put it?" Paras asked with a dry smile. _"Over my dead body."_

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

"I've gone during visiting hours but they won't let me see him," sighed Beast, fed up with general injustices and apathy on the behalves of society and Emma respectfully. "Emma refuses to aid me in communicating with Warren, and the prison staff give new reasons for his absence each time. I don't know what's going on but our duty as teachers is to look after all members of the Xavier community." His eyes stretched upon the other staff members who had agreed to have a meeting – in private – inside his suite.

"I know some of you are .. apprehensive to meet in secrecy like this, but unfortunately, as long as our only home is subject to tyranny, we cannot meet openly. I'm sure we've all learned this from Warren's situation."

A groan of agreement echoed throughout and Beast continued on, careful not to be too loud. "We all know what Emma did, she said it herself, but she is yet to give any legitimate reason as to why. Any of us, at any time or day, could be in Warren's shoes and so it's our responsibility to get him out of there."

"Oui, that sounds tres bien when you say it, mais how are we supposed to do that?" asked Remy LeBeau, the teacher of French and Chemistry.

"Why don't we just overthrow Emma?" asked Anna Marie, flicking a white streak of hair from her face. "I mean, what can she do to us? Warren walked into her trap, but we have the advantage of experience now."

"But what if she kicks us all out?" blurted a panicking Piotr Rasputin, patting his pockets. "This school is the only reason I have a roof over my head!"

"Me too!"

Beast sighed and took a deep breath to hush the audience as the passion behind the questions spurred on the volume.

"Please, please," he pleaded, hands bare. "One question at a time. Remy, I don't know how we're supposed to free Warren, but I have some ideas that I'm processing. Anna, if Emma finds out that we're meeting beyond her heed, she will surely banish us from the premises. As Piotr said, most of us don't have homes outside of this school so our number one priority is to make sure that Emma Frost remains ignorant to this meeting."

Her curiosity sated, Anna shrunk into the crowd while Piotr deflated and remained silent. The noise level reduced and Beast continued on.

"I understand that our hands are tied; Emma has a lot of control over us at the moment and that _does_ restrict us in our endeavors. But read my lips when I say that we _will_ free Warren."

"But why?" bleated Danielle Moonstar, her usually elated expression carrying the weights of the conversation instead. "Why is Emma acting like this?"

"I don't know," sighed Beast apologetically before fixing a warm smile that radiated assurance. "We'll never understand the intricacies of someone else's mind - all we can do is prepare ourselves for when that mind goes against the natural order." He paused briefly, taking a moment to mourn the Emma he thought he knew before continuing. "Warren predicted that she would turn him in," he apprised regretfully. "He packed his things and went somewhere safe. He didn't tell me where, but apparently Emma guessed correctly and told the authorities where to find him. Emma has told me that he sought shelter in his secondary home in the further countryside and that is where they found him."

A sorrowful humph came from the group and again, a silence imbued.

"So why call us all here?" asked Jean-Paul, his arms crossed. "Surely you had more to tell us other than what we already suspected."

Beast cleared his throat. "Apologies if I haven't made myself clear," he said, chin tilted outwards. "The purpose of this meeting to tell you all that Warren hasn't been forgotten. I wanted to tell you that steps are being taken to free him and that we must unite. As staff members under this school that we know and love, it's our duty to resist any force that threatens what we have."

A muted clap erupted hollowly from the crowd and Beast smiled. "Thank you all for coming," he said. "I will spread the word if we decide to meet again."

The staff members each touched Kurt Wagner, the teleporter, before everyone vanished from the suite, relieved that they did not have to elude down the halls and pass Emma's office during the night.

All but one had departed with Kurt, and Beast found himself recounting the points he had noted to bring up with this person as an important silence filled the room once again.

"Scott," Beast addressed firmly, shaking his hand. "Thank you for staying back."

"No problem Hank. What's going on?"

"I didn't want to mention this to the others as I cannot possibly risk this plan getting out," he informed, whispering incase the walls had ears. He took a step towards Scott and brought his voice to a near grumble.

"Scott, you are the only person with the power to overthrow Emma. I suggest you use that to your advantage," he whispered wholeheartedly, taking a step back from the mutant and taking his glasses off to wipe them. Scott seemed momentarily blank, his visor hiding any indication of his reaction until Beast stopped and expressed a wish for a response.

"Saying that is easier than doing it, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on board," said Scott eventually.

"Yes well I haven't decided how we can go about it, but at least the option is there. Dwell on it and if you come to any ideas, please let me know."

Scott nodded, turned and left thereafter and Beast plopped himself on the bed, glad to finally be alone. He needed to have someone else, someone permanent, behind the staff's mutiny, to lead it on under the event of Emma's awareness. He had prepared himself to take sole responsibility for any uprisings if Emma were to find out, so that the plan could go ahead without him, if need be. As the jailed mutant had passed responsibility to Hank, Beast needed to have an insurance policy as Warren did, under the event of his departure, and perhaps, Scott was the perfect person for the job.

**†††††††††††††††††††††**

Josh was fatigued. There wasn't an iota of energy left in him and he wondered how he even had the power to breathe or blink. He had jogged on his problems for hours, as exercise helped him get his brain around issues in his life, and he was now optimistic that he could deal with his confrontation with Jay. Anger didn't haze his judgment as per usual this time, and he had planned out the conversation he was going to have with his roommate. It was late now, and he was the last to head towards his dorm. The clear night sky had convinced him to keep running around the body of the school and the wind swept rustlings of the oak trees spoke to him as words of encouragement as he pushed himself that bit harder. September had brought a taste of honey to the wind and as the leaves began to kiss goodbye to their heritage, the plains of the courtyard became slowly blanketed with orange spotted leaflets of autumnal implications.

Fiddling with the key in the lock, Josh popped the door open and entered his room, surprised to feel that the temperature from within was equal to that of outside. He dropped the towel from around his neck and pulled the earphones from beneath his vest.

"I'm back," he called, emptying his pockets on the counter-top before stepping from his shoes. The room was empty, so it seemed, with only an open window to catch the healer's attention. "Jay?" he asked, noting the now untouched sheets of his roommate's bed. "Are you here?"

A pang of sadness drooped within him and Josh brought himself to his own bed. '_I wish he was here,' _he thought to himself. Jay could be anywhere now: The sky, the trees, the fairyfort, anywhere. There was no point searching for him now or bothering him with a phone call.

Josh had planned so much to say, such as his desire to finally tell Jay how much he appreciated what he had done for him. He had never had someone so willing to listen to him, or be concerned for him since Barnell, and _he_ was but a distant memory clouded by the events of Josh's mutant manifestation. Jay asked the healer if he meant for them to be friends, and Josh – after dancing around the question – had said yes, and so he planned to honor that reply. Jay was his friend, and he was entitled to faults too and Josh was wrong to assume that he was devoid of them. It was the faults that shape a person and so Josh mused that he should be grateful for Jay's ones as they made him the person Josh had come to trust, and call his friend. His _only_ friend. His best friend?

A strum and a melody soothed into Josh from outside the window. It was mellifluous and peaceful and Josh didn't want to get up and investigate it. After taking a moment, he rose from his bed and peered out the window, the sound becoming significantly richer.

His eyes descended, and below him, sitting upon the canopy of the balcony one story below the level of his dorm, was Jay, strumming a guitar and singing softly to himself beneath the eyes of the star-freckled sky. The moon's gaze had deviated to the mutant, and the ember panel of his guitar gleamed beneath the lunar attention.

Josh couldn't make out a particular song, or even recognize any lyrics from his distance; the words were lost upon his ears with only the shell of the melody gracing them.

He watched for a moment, not wishing to disturb his friend. Waiting for a pause in the music, he whisper-called down and Jay's head shot up.

"It's me," Josh said with a smile, his head peaking from the window. "Will that roof hold two?"

Jay seemed to smile to himself and he beckoned his roommate down with an embracing movement of his arm. "Of course," he replied. "Please join me."

Josh climbed out of the window, significantly fearless this time as he had rappelled the building before, and slid down a side-pipe as quietly as he could before landing upon the roof of balcony beneath with a thud. Jay was to his immediate left, the neck of the guitar pointing away from him. The two sat together without words for a moment until Josh spoke, having already prepared what he was going to say.

"Jay, I –"

"Josh," Jay started.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison, looking at each other bewilderedly before Jay smiled and Josh gently coughed a laugh. "I guess I wasn't the only one who

planned something to say," said Josh with a smile, eyes only briefly remaining on Jay. "You first."

"No please, you first," Jay requested courteously, making Josh acquiesce. Except Josh forgot what he had planned to say and so without having a rehearsed introduction to his speech, Josh had to go at it on the spot, and speak from his heart and what was in his mind in that exact moment.

"If you asked me, this time one month ago, if I thought I'd make any friends in this school, I probably would've been pretty certain that the answer would be no," he began diligently, watching his hands fold in and out of each other in angst, uncomfortable that he was about to open himself up. "But then you came along and helped me realize my powers. Since then, you've been there to listen to my rants and complaints even when most of them were probably offensive to you." He stopped and pulled his hands apart, placing them on either side of himself. "So this morning when you flipped out over the picture, you had every right to. I got used to thinking of you as.. I don't know," he stopped again, tilted his head and pushed out a remorseful sigh. "I guess I thought of you as someone that could do-no-wrong. When I had time to think about it, I realized that you must've been finally reacting to all the shit that I spat about mutants over the past month. But Jay, I was wrong." An unusual feeling washed over him as he admitted his own fault, for a change. It was scary and unfamiliar, but also liberating and unfettering. "I shouldn't have pushed you to your limits like that," he said. "I should never have presumed you were okay with everything I'd been saying. So you were right to be angry with me. I get it."

Dumbfounded, Jay remained silent, his eyes fixed upon his roommate's where Josh's were not, and he turned away to let the healer's words sink in. The stars above watched them as a divine audience and the soothing light from the moon gave Jay the zeal to consider Josh's words. The leafy oak trees of the courtyard made a crispy sound as the wind whistled by but as they settled down again, Jay had gathered his thoughts to respond.

"You're wrong," he replied faintly, his arms dragged over the guitar. "That took a lot of bravery for you to say, Josh, and I really appreciate it, but you're wrong."

Josh's stomach swan-dived and the neutral expression upon Jay's face unnerved him more. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Jay's face battled between a smile and an anguished frown as he breathed in and placed the guitar to his left. "I told you that I was willing to listen to you, and I was – I still am. I never felt anger when you spoke ill of mutants, I felt only empathy as I was once like you," he explained, his eyes focused on Josh, who seemed to fret under the supposed scrutiny. "I – quite wrongly – lashed out at you solely due to the nature of the picture, or, the person in the picture. It had nothing to do with anything you said in the past. You should not be apologizing Josh, I should. You did not know the significance of Julia and I shouldn't have expected you to. In fact, I should have just told you." He stopped, his brows weighing heavily upon his eyes as he tilted his face up and met the glimmering light of the moon.

"Is that her name?" Josh asked prudently, "Julia? Is she the woman in the photo? Where is she now?"

The healer couldn't tell if the shimmering glow of Jay's eyes were just reflections of the moonlight, or whether a tear was forming in the corner of his eye. The honey scented wind drifted past again and both mutants seemed to breathe into it, gracing themselves with tranquility from the nature. Jay nodded in the affirmative and Josh settled back into his seat.

"She died," he remarked grievously, wiping the eye that Josh had briefly stared at. "She died in my arms."

Daring not to ask how, why, when or where, Josh remained stagnant and allowed Jay to continue at his own pace. "Her family always hated mine," he elaborated, his demeanor bereft and his tone somber. "Most of my brothers and sisters are mutants back home in Kansas. The townsfolk demanded that my mother stop having children, but she refused. Julia's family, the Sanctum's, were militant anti-mutants and they made my family's life hell after my mother's decision. They were our neighbors too, so Julia and I had grown up sneaking over to see each other despite the fighting amongst our parents." He stopped and cleared his throat, his voice audibly shaky and husky.

"Jay, you don't need to tell me – "

"Yes, I do," he responded firmly, appearing to address himself rather than Josh. The healer nodded with concern, and Jay continued.

"As we grew up, we learned of the troubles between our families. _We_ were mutants and _they_ were not, and that fact would always be a wedge between Julia and I. When I became a mutant myself, Julia promised to stay beside me despite this wedge and we then planned to run away together, away from our families and the social barriers between us," he recounted, eyes still upon the stars above. "Then one night, her father got wind of what was happening between us. He appeared at our doorstep with guns and arms that the townsfolk like us had only seen in the drive-in movies from the backs of our pickups. But then he started shooting; Luckily my entire family were next door visiting the elderly neighbors when it happened. I ran, and he chased me to the swamps behind the farms where Julia and I had planned to meet and run away."

The acme of the story approached and Jay's voice began to hold back nothing as it undulated freely. Josh flinched before an escaped tear dripped down Jay's face

"Sorry," he groaned, swiping it indignantly. "I don't mean to be –"

"It's okay," Josh responded, holding back emotions of his own while placing a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm listening."

Jay smiled despite his reddened eyes and he commenced again, clasping his hands on his lap.

"I remember the sound of the bullets piercing the trees behind me – I'll never forget that. We kept running and running, with nothing to lose bar ourselves, until her and I swam into the swamp at the end of the trail. We held our breath underwater for as long as we could, until Jimmy Sanctum came and fired bullets in every direction. Even in the water.."

"Jay, I'm sorry," Josh spoke, realizing what was to come next. He then wrapped an arm around his friend as he recounted what appeared to be the most painful, torturous memory of his life. Jay seemed undeterred and too lost in himself to notice and he carried on, his hazel eyes lost beyond a veil of starry tears.

".. she was shot, in the chest. By the time I brought her up for air, that .. monster had moved on. I remember not even taking a breath when we came from the water. The exploding sound of bullets embedding themselves into the forest and the violent taunts and twisted jokes from Jimmy was all I could hear other than Julia's haunting gasps for air." Josh moaned apologetically and tightened his grip around his friend, but Jay remained stiff and lifeless as he told the story.

"I tried to heal her with my own blood, but it was no use. She folded in my arms, and panted my name while crying into my chest as the life slipped out of her. I was helpless, Josh, lost and broken and with nowhere to go. I would've rather he shot me instead, anyone but Julia. I remember her eyes unfocusing as I gazed into them, and when the silence stopped, when I could no longer hear anything, was when she took that last, memory-brazing gasp before she died. I'll never forget that sound, and I can still hear it. It follows me every day, choking me."

Holding himself back for the sake of his friend, Josh sat mutely and neither spoke for a few moments until Jay sniffed and added more.

"So when you blamed yourself for my behavior this morning, you were wrong. I wasn't using the picture as an excuse to lash out at you for the things you said, I simply experienced the resurfacing of old memories when that picture was openly acknowledged," he explained, life seemingly pouring back into his spine as he sat upright. "That picture is the last remembrance I have of hers.. Josh, I'm sorry for how I acted and how I've treated you. You didn't deserve that, and I do not deserve you as a friend."

"So you made a mistake," Josh replied stoically, a croak in his voice stating his cracking restraints. "We all make mistakes, but it doesn't mean you don't deserve me as a friend. That's bullshit, Jay. You're the only person in my life who I can call my friend."

Jay looked up, a smile passing him briefly as he wiped his eyes. "Then I'm honored to be that person," he said with pride amidst a shaken voice. "Thank you for listening to me."

"It's the least I could do," Josh responded, "for a friend."

The stars glittered for hours to come until the sun began to shimmer in the horizon of the dusk. The two mutants remained, in silence, together on the canopy, listening to the continual moans of the wind and faint chirpings of the birds. When the morning banished the dark, they retired to their room with a meaningful nod as the omen of their readiness to sleep. Jay was claimed by sleep almost instantly as the healer could hear faint snores from the opposite side of the dorm.

Josh knew that he had a lot to think about; Jay's story had overwhelmed him and he needed time to think about it. His own problems felt minor in comparison to Jay's, and the mutant lay in bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he felt a wet trail of water glide down his face. He realized that he, when out of the sight of everyone else, had shed a tear. He shed a tear for his roommate, for Julia Sanctum, and conversely, at the fact he had confirmed his friendship with Jay.

Sometimes the good _could _arise from the ashes of the evil – a shift in the Blair-given philosophy of Joshua Foley.


	18. What Emma Did

Apologies for the delay with this one! Real life caught up with me, but as an apology, I've written one of the longest chapters yet. In fact, it's worthy of being two chapters, but I thought one long one would keep the events in this chapter more chronological. Hope you all had a great Halloween (where/however you may celebrate it.) As for me, I spent my night with some friends and some bottles - the latter greatly outweighing the former. Heh. Anyway, enjoy!

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Jay's story was heavy upon Josh's mind. Two things had occurred to the mutant after he pondered the events from _hier soir:_ Josh realized why Jay had always been relatively undeterred by Josh's own outbursts, and why the winged mutant had proven himself to have been quite the listener. It was because Jay had seen it all; he was wavelengths beyond any hardships Josh had faced in his short lifetime. Jay was the epitome of a victim, but yet he sought no sympathy or compassion from anyone else; he seemed rather contempt in his silence. In fact, Josh had learned that he was the first person to find out _the truth_ regarding the events surrounding Julia, and that even Jay's parents didn't know the _full_ story.

So Julia had died at the hands of her own father: The man who raised her, and the main who, by nature's law, was supposed to put her before all else. For a man to kill his own daughter was psychotic, and Josh had no problems discerning that. How could a man murder his own flesh and blood simply because he didn't agree with the choice she'd made in life? How could he justify that?

Jay had also mentioned, through small-talk after returning to the room, that Jimmy Sanctum had died shortly after Julia had. '_Probably guilty suicide,'_ Josh thought to himself, as he lay beneath his sheets amidst Jay's muffled snores. The healer didn't expect his roommate to wake up any time soon; reliving those memories had definitively drained him and so he required as much sleep as possible to rejuvenate himself, at least enough so that he'd have the energy to fly again. With that in mind, Josh fell back into himself and continued to ponder Jay's prequel once again.

'_I wonder what Jay's parents are like?' _he asked himself, the sleep in his eyes blurring his vision of the ceiling patterns. _'How come he never told his parents the full story?' _There was clearly so much more to Jay Guthrie that Josh had no idea about, but he was in some ways proud that his roommate had finally opened up to _him_, rather than the usual other way around.

Does his family still live in that village? Are they still neighbors of the Sanctum family? What was it that made the Sanctums hate mutants?

Josh needn't have asked himself the latter. Wasn't it obvious? Couldn't Josh answer that himself? Weren't _all_ mutants _deceitful and putrid_, as Blair had put it? Was Blair not _similar_ to Jimmy Sanctum himself? Was he not the same kind of man who had scarred the person Josh now called his best-friend? And wasn't Blair Josh's role model? Didn't Josh want to _be_ Blair at one stage?

Then the contrast fell upon the healer as a thousand tons, and a sharp pain shot up his stomach as he realized that he, Joshua Foley, was once the same type of man as Jimmy Sanctum and Blair. In fact, Blair may as well have _been_ Jimmy Sanctum, and Josh had once called Blair his role model, his mentor. Jimmy Sanctum was Blair, and Blair was Josh; in fact, the healer's entire past may as well have been that of either of those men's. They were different dimensions of the same coin - fallen apples from the same branch.

Josh leapt out of bed, his arms and head swinging behind his body. Looking at his hands, his mutant hands, he tore off his T-shirt and fell to his knees as he realized that he had been the same person who had killed Julia Sanctum. He once identified with that same sort of person, and he was once once of them. A sickness brewed within his stomach.

Jay didn't stir while Josh burst into the ensuite bathroom, removing the last of what felt like tainted-clothing from his body and leaping into the shower with a gasp as the stinging cold water nipped at his skin. As it heated up, Josh ferociously scrubbed his body, almost reddening the gold with hopes of removing the person he once was – shedding the same exterior that once hunted mutants and aspired to rid them all from the planet. And Josh wanted nothing more than to leave that husk behind him. He wanted nothing to do with it.

The faces of the people he'd hurt during the time he was coming to terms with his change seeped into his mind.. Dozens of mutants in Xaviers itself, Beast, Ben, Mark, Megan .. Laurie. How could he have been so cruel? How did he treat these people the way he did? How did he once identify with the likes of Blair and Jimmy Sanctum? Murderers, crooks, zealots.

As he began to draw a raw, fleshy line of blood, Josh stopped after bellowing gutturaly before Jay's knocks were heard beyond the egress. "Josh, you alright in there?" he asked huskily, the knob twisting and jittering to no avail. "I heard a scream."

Josh winced as the hot water poured over his wound momentarily, but then his powers kicked in and his skin moulded itself back together with ease. The mutant wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door.

"Josh, are you okay?" asked a brow-risen Jay, his hands white from gripping the doorknob. "What was that scream?"

"Nothing," Josh replied, guilt spitting on him as he lied to Jay in light of their previous night of honesty. "You must've been hearing things."

"I'm certain of what I heard," responded Jay skeptically, as he tilted his head, as expected. Josh focused on his unrestrained wings and briefly wondered how Jay managed to navigate to the ensuite without scraping his wings against the sides of the wall. "And I'm certain of what didn't happen," Josh quipped with respect, smiling innocently, but yet, unconvincingly.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," said Jay with a shy shrug. "After last night, I understand that things got rather.. heavy. I apologize if I was too.."

"Jay if you apologize one more time I swear I'll buy some duct tape," replied Josh with a chuckle, pressing all of his efforts into his acting skills. "I'm glad you told me. That's what friends are for."

"Per_cis_ely," Jay drawled suspiciously, turning around and lying back on his bed. "Are you sure there isn't something you're not telling me?

"Duct tape, Jay. Duct tape," Josh replied, his lesson learned still in his mind, "Sorry but I have to get ready to go, I've planned to go find someone – to say something."

"Oh? And who might that be?" Jay asked, his suspicion losing sight of itself amidst its intensity.

"Laurie Collins," replied Josh straightly, reaching to his wardrobe and pulling out a T-shirt, despite the ripped one on the floor that Jay didn't seem to notice. "Laurie Collins?" asked Jay. "The last time you spoke of her, you didn't have one nice thing to say."

"I know, I know," Josh waved. "But you were right. I need to find her and apologize for those things I said to her back when I first arrived."

Jay smiled, although failing to remove his confused expression, and he tilted his head again as Josh anticipated the coming question. "What brought the change of heart?"

Josh defalted, allowing his shoulders to lose their zeal and shrink either side of him. "I'm not going to lie," he declared meekishly. "What you said last night kind of opened my eyes."

'_That'll do,' _Josh said to himself._ 'He doesn't need to know about the shower part.'_

A half-smile befell Jay and his head dropped, seemingly affected by what looked like pride, relief and joy, and Josh breathed out awkwardly during a repose in conversation.

"I'm glad some good has come of it," he said finally, looking up. "It tells me that maybe some things are meant to be."

"Maybe," Josh cooed. "I'm lucky to have a friend like you to help me see it though."

"You're a good person, Josh. Now go prove it to those who don't see what I see." Jay smiled and Josh reciprocated before turning around and spilling over the threshold.

"Any advise?" Josh asked back, as Jay watched from the shrinking gap between the closing door.

"Be yourself," he responded quickly, as the hinges of the door met each other and separated the roommates.

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"Phone?"

"Check."

"Wallet?"

"Check."

"Sweater?"

"Check."

"Memorised lines?"

..."Erm.." Victor stopped and flumbled from within. What _were_ his lines again? He and Paras had gone through them over and over and he had thought that he knew how he was going to manipulate the conversation. Apparently not.

"Erm, check?"

"You don't sound confident," opined Paras, shaking his head. "Do you want to act it out _again_?"

"No," Victor replied. "Not really. I think it's best that I just go."

"Are you sure?" Paras asked aprehensively, wishing to be certain that he wasn't throwing Victor into a situation imbued with stutters, coughs and awkward silences. "You could reschedule?"

"I need to go," he said, slinging his sweater over his shoulder as he saw the windswept trees from outside. "I'll let you know how it goes. Try not to freak out, okay? I'll be fine."

Like a mother sending her first born to school on the first day, Paras opened the door for Victor and signaled to the exposed wall of the hallway. "Show them what you're made of,"

Without a touch, Victor smiled and spilled over the threshold, his exit causing Paras to shiver in angst as the possible negative outcomes of Victor's revelation to his mother plagued and teased his mind. He was never going to relax at this rate.

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"I don't want to join you and your playmates," hissed Kevin Ford to Laurie. She had decided to visit him again and tried to do her best to convince him to leave the house and mingle with the students, for a change. "I'm not a student at that school. I simply rent the premises from the principal. I have no business being there and likewise, you have no business being here."

"I want to be here," said Laurie, almost apologetically, as she sat with her hands flattened together between her knees.

"There's no reason you should be here," said Kevin, ill tempered.

"I'm trying to help you!"

"I don't need your help. And for the second time, I don't need your charity."

Their bickering continued as such during the majority of their time together, and Laurie, as always, became withered down by Kevin's corrosive words and insults. "Can't you understand that it bothers me that you're locked up in here? Can't you see that?"

"If someone did to me what I did to you then I would _want_ them to rot in here like this," Kevin spat back, appearing numb to the power of his words. Laurie winced and her eyes drew themselves upon the cobwebs in the corner of every room before she peered back to Kevin.

"So you're punishing yourself for what you did? Why is that? Because _I'm_ not the one doing the punishing? News for you, Kev, nobody needs to take blame for what happened – that specifically was an accident!"

"Yes, an accident," Kevin whispered to himself remousefully, tilting his fringe upon his forehead again as Laurie gawked suspiciously.

"It _was_ an accident, Kevin, wasn't it? You told me it was."

A pause sliced Laurie's assurance and she jumped up, panic and uncertainity pulling the rug from beneath her. "Don't do this Kevin.. don't make me doubt your intentions. _Say_ it: It was an accident."

Kevin said nothing, but the expression on his face defied his secrecy and as Laurie crashed to the sofa, his head shot up. "Kevin," she panted, hyperventilating. "Tell me.. now.. that it was an.. acci-dent." Her hand remained on her chest and the air irregularly filled her and fuzzed her eyesight.

"It was an accident," he assured, crawling to her as a snake to its prey. Laurie stared through him for a minute – a moment to clasp onto the truth once again, before she deflated, pushing Kevin away with all of her might as he slithered closer.

"Get away from me!" she cawed, catching her breath. Kevin flumbled back to his own seat and his wide-eyes demanded an explanation. "What the hell was that?" Laurie shouted shakily. "Why did you make me doubt you? Is that what you want? To torture me? To _kill_ me?"

"Of course not!" groaned Kevin. "This is why you can't come here anymore.. I'm too dangerous. Just get out."

As Laurie finally collected herself and pulled her bag closer to her side, a knock was heard at the door and Kevin and Laurie's concerned eyes met each other, as if to ask '_who could that be?'_

"Hello? Anybody in there?" asked a voice behind loud wooden knocks. "Laurie? Are you in there?"

"Who the hell is that?" Kevin whisper hissed to Laurie, "you brought people?"

"I didn't bring anyone," she replied, as confused as he was as to who it could've been. Her immediate thought was Ben, but then she knew that he would never make his presence so obviously known. Noriko? No, it was a male's voice. What about Beast? Perhaps. Warren? Couldn't be.

"You answer it," Kevin hissed, crouching on the floor to make sure he could not be seen through the dusty windows either side of the door. The knocking became louder and the letter-flap opened up as eyes searched the hall way from outside.

"But who could it be?" she asked worriedily, causing Kevin to shrug mercilessly. "He said _your_ name so this is _your_ problem – sort it out."

With a grumble, Laurie apprehensively approahced the door and fiddled with the knob until it creaked open, revealing the person on the other side. She stared for a moment, in shock, and _he_ stared back for a moment in what looked like relief, and a pause stole the ambience.

"Josh?" Laurie croaked, her bag slipping from her shoulder.

"Laurie, hi. It's me. I followed you here. No damn," he said with a grunt, slapping his forehead as he gathered himself to continue. "I mean, not in a creepy way.. it's just, you walk really fast and you came over here. Hey, what is this place?"

"Stay there," she commanded sternly, turning back to see Kevin mouth_ 'who is it?'_ before she turned back around and faced Josh again. The last thing she needed was Kevin to meet him – that would be a definitive recipe for disaster. "Look, this isn't a good time. I'm in the middle of something, could you -?"

"I don't believe _we've _met," slicked a voice from behind. Laurie shuddered as Kevin crossed her and peaked his head from beyond her shoulder. Josh's face distorted and he cocked his head, a testament to the fact he had no idea who was before him.

"Um, hi," he greeted unsurely, not extending a hand. "Laurie is.. everything alright in there?"

Before she could reply, Kevin was on him as a fly in a cobweb and a menacing smile separated his lip-line to show a row of ominous jagged teeth. "Everything is fine Josh. What bring you to this neck of the woods?"

Josh's brow fell and his eyes remained on Laurie, her unconvincing expression worrying him. "I was hoping to speak with Laurie. Is that possible?"

"Well I don't know!" Kevin teased, looking at Laurie. "Is that okay with _you_ Laurie?"

"Perfectly," she responded, shoving off a pale hand that had found itself to her shoulder before she descended the row of marble steps and waited for Josh at the white picket fence.

"Careful with her now," Kevin hissed. "She's delicate. Trust me, I know." He then laughed maliciously and shut the door in Josh's face, not hearing the growl let out by the healer before he eluded down the same path as Laurie and met her at the gate.

"I suppose you'll want an explanation," she cooed guiltily, shoveling her foot into the ground and browning her white plimsolls. Josh smiled awkwardly, still baffled by what had just happened.

"Erm, well it's none of my business but what is this place? And who is he? How do you know him?"

"So much for none of your business," Laurie bit sarcastically before stopping herself and realizing that Kevin was beginning to influence her once again. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. This is property of Xavier's, that Kevin – the guy who lives here – is renting. He used to be a friend of mine, but as you can see, he's become a little dark."

Red flags arose from everywhere and Josh paused before forcing himself to address the reason he had followed her. "I guess you want an explanation too?" he asked diplomatically.

"It would be nice. I didn't think I'd be having a conversation with you any time soon."

Josh smiled shyly and flicked his hair from his forehead. "I wanted to speak with you, about something.. something I said," he informed graciously, embracing a wave of inner gratitude at the fact his golden skin shaded some of the redness in his cheeks. Not only had he said 'thank you' to someone for the first time since he could remember, he was about to apologize as well, and doing such a thing had also become faded from his memories. When was the last time he actually repented something he'd said? It had been month, or perhaps even years since he had recognized a wrong-doing on his _own_ behalf – he was usually the one who expected apologies to be aimed at him, rather than from him.

"About a month ago," he started shakily, pinching his leg from the inside of his pocket to cop himself on. "I said something to you – something.. out of line.."

"I remember," commented Laurie flatly, folding her arms.

A little put off by her scrutiny, Josh had to pinch himself again to gather himself before he continued on. "I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for saying that you were.. spoilt and insulated or whatever word I used."

"You said that I had everyone who I care about around me," she reminded rather acerbically, her eyes moving to the sky as she wished not to look at Josh as the memory piqued others of its archived kind. "And I told you that that wasn't true."

Josh winced. His nails dug into his palms as he cursed himself for being so cruel back then. How did he even bring himself to say such a thing? He thought back to what Jay said to him before he left his dorm earlier on, and he renewed some confidence as he allowed it to sink in.

"_You're a good person Josh, now prove it to those who don't see what I see."_

Expanding his chest, Josh spoke up. "And I was wrong to say that. Look, I know an apology is probably weak, but I just want you to know that I'm really sorry for saying what I said, and treating you as I've been treating you lately."

Taken aback, Laurie wasn't sure whether to feel delight, anger, or the gratification of having him crawling to her with his tail between his legs. Shaking her head, she kicked away her bitterness and smiled, albeit forcibily.

"What brought this on?" she asked. "This time one month ago I would've expected to win the lottery before seeing you apologize."

_Was I that bad?_

"I've just.. I've learned some things recently.. met new people, and I just.. I'm not good at things like this. I'm just sorry."

Josh sighed as he saw Laurie's neutral expression and he then doubted whether taking Jay's advise was the right thing to do. Maybe he shouldn't have apologized to her. Maybe it would've been better had he just left it all alone "Do you.. accept?" he asked quietly, glimpsing at the floor and hoping internally that she'd say yes. When she said nothing, and continued to stare through him, Josh deflated and turned away, feeling more defeated than he had in a long time. Her reaction proved that mistakes were not worth apologizing for – he should never have come; he should never have let guilt make a decesion for him.

He turned around to depart, and as he did so, he left Laurie with five final words.

"I'm sorry about your Dad."

Laurie felt a knot unravel within her stomach, and as his slumped figure began to shrink into the distance, Laurie eschewed Noriko's influential teasings, Ben's skeptical warnings and the inner voice that warned her from chasing him, at once, and before she had a moment to question her motives, she found herself jogging, running, after Josh and calling his name.

The healer turned around, unsure as to what the commotion behind him was and he then saw Laurie pursuing him with arms in the air before his name met his ears. He stopped and watched her approach, and noticed that her run was awkward and one-sided; he chuckled almost endearingly to himself.

By the time she reached him, her hair was windswept around her neck as it had been when he saw her at the top of the cliff and her plimsolls had been browned by the earthy surface she had trudged to reach him.

"Josh," she panted, placing both hands over a respective kneecap as she looked up at him. He had blue eyes too, she noticed. The healer took a step closer and waited for her to catch her breath. "Thank you," she said breathily, rising from her repose. "That really meant a lot, thank you."

Whatever doubts Josh had were instantly obliterated and the purity within her prussian blue eyes melted his diaphragm as he realized how close they were standing. Jay was right; an apology was right; Josh _felt_ right and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"I guess we could.. start again?" he suggested, reddening at the fact he was not in his comfort zone despite being inwardly drunk from joy and relief. Laurie smiled and giggled faintly.

"I'd like that," she said. "I'd really like that."

Jay smiled shyly. "Erm, I'm Joshua. No, I mean, Josh. Josh Foley. I'm from California, if you don't remember-"

Laurie blurted out a laugh, exposing a row of white teeth and her nose shriveled as a result of the mirth. "Okay Megan," she joked. "Just kidding. Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes this early on.. I'm screwing this up aren't I?"

"Who did you call Megan?" he teased, his smile lifting his cheeks. "Don't worry, I won't flip out if you tease me.. My friend back home – or, in California – used to tease me all the time. We had a love-hate thing."

_Joshua Foley – providing women with useless information since 1993! _

Josh cleared his throat. "So where were we?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Laurie chortled, holding her stomach. "Hey I'm Laurie. It's great to meet you Josh. I understand you're new to the school?"

"If a month is considered new.."

"I've been here for five years. A month is still new."

"Right," Josh hummed, placing his hands into his pockets. "In that case, yeah, I'm new." He couldn't hold back the half-smile that lifted his countenance and Laurie's eyes probed him, as if to encourage him to keep going. "So where are you from Laurie?" he questioned, not sure what else he could ask.

"Down the road," she commented swiftly, pointing in the direction beyond Josh. "Just that direction."

As the pleasantries subsided and the two broke the act of being strangers to each other, Josh found himself surprised to be smiling at Laurie's jokes and grinning at her actions. She was the least person he'd expected to draw any sort of endearment from. But yet, people never seized to amaze him lately – Jay Guthrie was living proof of that.

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"Look how tall you've gotten!" Victor's mother lauded boisterously, launching her arms wide and pulling her son into a cheek-reddening embrace. "My little boy has gotten so old!"

"Mom, don't bring attention to me! It's bad enough that I'm scaly."

"Oh don't be so paranoid!" she chided airily, not feeling Victor physically repositioning her during their embrace so that he was concealed by the angle. "It's not everyday I see my son!"

"And it's not everyday people here see scales. I need to keep quiet – I don't want trouble."

"Well you don't need to worry about trouble!" she declared gaily, if not naively. "Haven't you heard? Oh you haven't, have you? Well," she started, "your father and I were reading the paper – you know, the one with all the interesting stories? – and we read an article about how it's becoming _trendy_ to be a mutant! How great is that?"

"About as trendy as fiction," sighed Victor apologetically, feeling like the downer of the mood as he burst his mother's bubble. "Mom, how many times do I have to remind you? The situation with us mutants hasn't changed.."

"How would you know?" she asked with a self-convincing giggle. "You're cooked up in that school all year. Do they even let you read the paper there? Ooh, I shouldn't have agreed with your father to send you there. You know I've always wanted you to come back.. Alain misses you so much too. We all do!"

"Mom," Victor interrupted. "Calm down. I like it there, and I'm not cooked up. I'm fine." In contrast with his mother, Victor realized how hardened he'd become since he first became a mutant. He was once like _them_ – the rest of his family, back before he became an alien, when he was happy and cheerful, if not excessively so. Though he hadn't noticed how much he'd changed since he was enrolled his Xaviers, and it was always the sessions with his mother that highlighted this change. He felt heavy in her company – as if he was coming across darker than he were; it had taken him a while to accept that he wasn't abnormal in light of this, but rather, he had changed in one deviating direction to his family, and they had remained in their excessively joyful ways. Now, he felt as if they were different to him, as if he had been a wolf raised amongst pigs and could no longer identify with, nor relate to them. Even with Alain, who was the easiest to converse with, it had become increasingly more difficult to remain gleeful in his presence as their conversations dabbled in topics of excessive happiness.

"Of course you're fine. I shouldn't have said anything. You're Victor! My tough little boy! Of course you're fine! How are you friends Mark and Paras? How are you enjoying school?"

"Mark's fine. School's fine," he replied, feeling comparitively miserable in his mother's company. "But about Paras.."

"Hold that thought," Mrs Borkowski interrupted, as she began rooting through her handbag. "Your sisters baked cookies for you.. I just need to find them –"

Victor sighed and wiped his face with his hand before he cringed and realized that he was in public. "It's okay, I've already eaten. Mom, about Paras.."

"Here they are!" she declared, whipping out a bag of broken, crumbled, cookies. "They don't look great, but they taste it."

"Mom, I –"

"Oh no! You don't like cookies do you? It's Alain who likes them! Oh silly me!"

"_Mom_!" Victor shouted regretfully, turning his head as the faces of some strangers poked his way. His mother looked up, surprised by his sudden self-assertion and she lowered the cookies back into her bag with a wobbly arm.

"Mom," Victor repeated with a sigh, "Sorry. I just.. I have something to tell you." His mother looked up and her expression spoke of her surprise and hurt, as she forced a brave face for her son. "Y.. yes, Victor, you can tell me."

"Remember when I turned into a mutant?" he asked. "Remember when we all accepted that I'd never be an equal compared to everyone else? Remember that night when I was..?"

"Don't say it," she pleaded, her tone darker. "I know what you mean, you don't need to say it."

Victor nodded. "Remember when we all took some time to let my mutation sink in, and you and Dad cried because you knew I'd never have the life you both wanted me to have?"

His mother sniffed, hugging her bag against her chest. "Yes," she croaked. "Of course I remember."

"There's another aspect to me that kind of... changes how you think of me.. I'm just.. I'm not the person you think I am."

Ms. Borkowski's face wobbled and her lack of comprehension spurred on her worries, and her face reflected that. "I don't know what you mean," she said, a tear away from a sob. "What are you saying?"

"I'm.." he sighed and remembered Paras's criticism of being _too blunt_. "Mom, you know Paras?"

"Yes? But what does that have to do with..?"

Sighing at the fact it wasn't yet obvious, Victor went on, feeling as if forming each word were a tooth-pulling experience. "Paras is more than a friend, mom."

"He's your best friend, I know that," she responded.

"He's more than that too," he apprised. "Mom, Paras and I are.. together.. we're, you know.."

"In the same class?" she asked, genuinely unaware of the message behind his shade of meaning. Victor slapped his face, mentally, and thought of yet another approach to tackle some sort of clarity towards his nuance. "No, no, not that," he said. "Before you and Dad were together, you were friends, right?" His mother nodded. "And then you realized that you had something between you and then it became something more?" She nodded again, and her brows knitted. ".. And then you fell in love?"

"Victor are you..?"

"Yes, Mom. The answer to the question in your head is yes. Me and Paras are together.. and we're beyond the friendship stage."

Her bag fell to the floor and he face whitened, while Victor's stomach plummetted. "Mom?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine!" she yelped unconvincingly, dropping to her knees and shovelling the spilled items back into her bag. "It's fine Victor, I.. I just.. I need to go. Take care of yourself."

"But wait? You're not going to stay-?" he asked shrinkingly. "Is this a problem? Don't we need to talk about it..?"

"No no, I have to go," she announced, not looking Victor in the eye. "Your father will be wondering where I am."

"But Mom.."

"I.. I have to go.. your brothers and sisters need help with homework and.. just, bye Victor."

She then shuffled off into the distance, and Victor stood there for thirty minutes, his hood concealing his face and his dropped jaw as the clouds opened up and began to cry above his head. The raindrops trickled down his face as the sudden grumbles of lightening stole the empty ringing in his ears. As the streets emptied, Victor realized that he had just been casted away. His mother was quick to fade into the distance, and as her figure darkened and transmuted into a distant fleck upon the urban horizon, Victor didn't feel angry, he didn't feel wronged. He just felt an animalistic impulse to find Paras, to be _with_ Paras – the last member of his family, and the only durable figure remaining in his life.

**†††††††††††††††††††††††††**

After stretching his wings and going for his morning fly, Jay marched down the halls feeling much more refreshed than he had this morning. The school's roof was rumbling due to the heavy rain, but Jay tried to not let that affect him. He was usually very reactive when it came to the weather, as the sun would usually amplify his optimism, and clouds and rain would do they opposite. Except not for today. Today was different. Today, Jay was going to keep his head high and from this day onwards, Jay was going to be a normal young adult. Well, as normal as mutant life could be.

During his time in Xaviers, Jay had noticed that life as a mutant had some apocalyptic qualities – especially outside of the school grounds, where mutant rights were non-existent. He had noted that life excelled at a faster rate within Xaviers. Because there was the aspect of a collective unknown fate, and that eschewed feeling of living under the eye of a hurricane, people tended to bond together faster, and relationships grew unrestrictedly. In the real world, there was time to move to different stages of a friendship or a relationship, but in Xaviers, the six year repose from chaos, there was less time to allow relationships to mature naturally, as the students innately glued together amidst their common differentiation. So as if the world could end tomorrow, Jay mentally remarked that people stuck together sooner rather than later, because the _later_ was too shrouded in mystery to take any chances with it. Time was certainly _not_ of the essence in Xaviers. What _did_ happen after a student graduated? Did students stick together after they left Xaviers?

Many more-recent alumnis became staff members, as Jay recalled, pictures of Ms. Anna Marie and other younger members of the faculty popping into his head. But what of the others? Of course, the mutants untouched by psychical mutations simply learned to control their powers and lived lives of secrecy in society's workforce, but what of those, like Jay, who had an obvious psychical mutation? You didn't see many lawyers and doctors looking like Beast around town, he mused. Where did _they_ go?

Though the transition from Xaviers to the real world was a an unwelcome change anticipated by many of the students, Jay was lucky in that he enjoyed his own company. Buying some land, in the middle of nowhere and living off of it, away from the eyes of the world, seemed perfectly fine to him. But that plan was understandibly polarizing and many students couldn't just dwell in the middle of nowhere because of the hand they were dealt in life. What about Josh? Jay couldn't picture him living in the center of North Dakota, away from everything, but he also couldn't see how his roommate could survive in a city, where he'd live a similar life to the one he tasted in New York one month-or-so ago. So what would be in store for him? Did the school cater to the psychically mutated who had nowhere else to go?

Jay knew that Xaviers wasn't perfect. No student, bar maybe Laurie Collins, would ever argue that the school is, or ever was, infallible. Its faculty, like any school's administration, had made its fair share of mistakes through the ratification of laws, of which the majority of students deemed ridiculous; such as the 'we don't chase after runaways' policy that almost got Josh killed.

The school also had many skelatons in the closet. Jay and Josh were possibly the only students who knew of Emma's cover-up, when she swore them to secrecy in regards to the events in the Big Apple. Jay also knew that the school had something to do with Warren's departure.. but he wasn't going to go into that one again – it was too conspiracal in light of his attempts to be proactive today.

As the winged mutant tilted his head up to clear his mind of thoughts heavier than the rain thrumming upon the ceiling, a face crossed his peripheral vision before he realized that it was someone of recent significance.

"Jubilation," he called politely, nodding courteously as he appraoched her. "Sorry to bother you,"

"Who's there?" she asked calmly, her cloudy eyes drifting around the frontier as she sought out the source of the voice. Jay didn't act differently, and still maintained polite body language as he conversed with her.

"Jay Guthrie. How are you today?" he asked.

"Fine. Are you okay, Jay?" she asked back, watching him inaccurately as her pupils deviated from his form ever-so-slightly. Jay cleared his throat; he hadn't even prepared himself for what he was planning to say. Would _"are you a telepath?"_ suffice?

"Again, I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to ask you something."

"Mmm?"

Jay cleared his throat again and momentarily relied on his southern charm to allow himself to come across more courteous than how he was most likely going to sound. "Jaeda," he started. "I was in class a few days ago, and I heard you refute some rumours regarding Mr. Worthington's disappearance..I'm just wondering.. do you know anything about that?"

Unexpectedly undeterred by his invasive question, Jubilation's expression dropped to neutrality, and then, _she_ was the one to clear her throat.

"I'm not certain of anything.. why do you ask?"

Jay took a breath in and feigned assurance, portraying himself to be externally comfortable in the situation. "Just curious, as any other student is," he remarked aptly, folding his arms.

"Hmm," she mumbled, her brows fixed. "That's ironic coming from a primary source like yourself."

A drop in the stomach, a frisson in the spine, and a weakness in the legs each aided Jay in his endeavors of confirmation. She knoew something. She knew more than anyone else knew. _How_ could she know _anything_?

"A primary source?" Jay asked, lifting an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Let's not play games," she said through a hybrid between a laugh and a huff. "You were there. You were in New York. You know what Warren did – why he's gone."

Jay signaled to an open door of an empty classroom and politely guided Jaeda into it, lest they be heard. He shut the door behind them and took a firm step closer to her, so that she'd know the severity of the situation.

"Jaeda," he started clamly, "How could you possibly know about any of this?" He stared at her in the eyes, despite her inability to reciprocate. Jaeda broadened her shoulders. "I know things. I know what happened – I know why he's gone, and where he went. I've been planning to tell everyone, to expose what Emma Frost did, but I've been waiting for the right time," she explained.

Unsure where to start, Jay gulped inwardly, doing so with certainty and not wanting his fellow mutant to hear. "What Emma Frost did? What do you mean? Where is Warren? How do you know this?"

"I don't remember being told I was going to be interrogated," she remarked with a huff, and Jay deflated. "My apologies," he lamented, "but please understand my.. confusion."

"Of course," she sighed. "I should explain. I suppose this works out best anyway – you were on my short list of candidates of whom I was planning to tell. Anyway," she stopped and lowered her bag to the floor before feeling behind her for a wall and leaned up against it. "How I know this isn't important. So please don't ask me that. Just accept that this is the truth and that I'm telling you."

Jay nodded and then spoke in the affirmative after realizing that she didn't see his nod.

"A woman phoned Emma Frost shortly after your return from the city. I think her name was Helena Joy, but that part's fuzzy. She asked Emma if Warren lived here and Emma sold him out – agreed that he had murdered that woman in cold blood."

"What?" Jay gasped, "That was an _accident_! I was there! She attacked _him_ – and she shot _me_!"

"Shh!" she chided. "Walls have ears in this school. Emma's a telepath so we need to be quiet." Jay forced down his reaction, with answers in his better interest, but he clenched onto his folded arms as these very answers stunned him and caused his thoughts to overlap.

"From what I've seen and heard, Warren was arrested without a trial. He's being kept on charges of first degree murder and attempt to flee from a crime scene. I also know that the staff has been meeting to do something about it – to force a trial."

"The staff knows?" Jay gasped again, only to hush himself. "The staff know?" he asked in a whisper, looking at the glass panel of the door to make sure that nobody knew of their meeting. "Why haven't they done anything?"

"Fear, uncertainty.. nonchalance.. I can't say for certain. Each of them have their own reasons, but I know that Beast is leading a staff rebellion of sorts." She stopped and laughed to herself. "Oh the irony!" she cackled. "She accused the wrong person of a staff revolt! Poor Warren, he hasn't had the best luck has he?"

"Staff rebellion?" Jay asked, open mouthed. "What's been going on behind the scenes?"

"A lot," she responded icily. "Emma made it clear that the reason she sent Warren to jail was because she was worried that he was planning on overthrowing her.. but again, she wasn't entirely honest. Emma has _personal_ reasons for letting Warren go."

"Which are?" Jay drawled.

"Irrelevant," she underlined in response, her face bright. "It feels good to finally tell someone this."

"So Emma gave Warren in because she thought he wanted rid of her – but she really didn't – and so he is in jail and being wrongfully charged without a trial as a result?" Jay asked in disbelief.

"In a paraphrase, yes." She collected her bag and slung it over his shoulder with a flick. "I know this is hard to think about.. in fact.. Oh to hell with it.. I'm a telepath Jay, but I think you already know that."

"I gathered," he replied skeptically. "But telepaths aren't supposed to read peoples' minds. And I've heard that Emma is next to impossible to break through, so how did you do it?"

"Her walls have been down," Jaeda yawned. "All that regret and suppressed remorse can destroy a woman, but you know all about that too."

"You've read _my_ mind?" he asked, holding back the seeds of inner rage. Wouldn't he have known if he was being pressed by a telepath?

"Not so much," she responded. "You're tough to crack, you know. You have barriers up that I'm guessing you don't even know about."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do," she exclaimed. "There's more to you than even _you_ know. But that's for another discussion."

"You've intruiged me," he stated back. "Tell me about these barriers.."

"For another discussion," she reiterated. "I have to go now. Be careful with your information Jay, because as far as anyone is concerned, this conversation never happened."

Before Jay could even cajole her into changing her mind on that stance, the mutant had slid outside the door and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jay with a plethora of information that even _he_ did not know what to do with.

"What just happened?" he asked himself in disbelief, the rain above feeling as if it were all around him. "What has Emma done?"


	19. I Used to Live Alone Before I Knew You

Finally. I wrote this chapter last week and then accidentally deleted it after all my work. Seriously, I would have preferred crucifixion. Anyway, I've taken a different approach to this chapter in terms of writing style. So your feedback is very, very much appreciated for this one. Thank you to everyone who is enjoying reading this story as much as I am writing it. I respond to anyone who reviews/follows/messages me about the story because your opinions go a long way towards this learning experience :). Cheers to you all!

* * *

_'Ugh, I hate the rain,' _Victor thought to himself as he trudged through watery street after watery street, the thumming of the rain and the cackles of the thunder sounding as if there were a marching band behind him. The walk back to the school felt much longer this time 'round than the last, but that was due to the harsher conditions; it had been overcast when he departed Xaviers, but the journey was finished in what felt like minutes, due the his nerves and worries pertaining to the _news_ he was about to break to his mother._  
_

_'So much for time flying when you're having fun,' _he thought to himself, both hands tucked into a communal pocket on the front of his hoodie. Luckily his head remained dry, for now, thanks to his cottony hood and layers of scales that sat on his apex. Although he hated having wet scales, it was a better alternative than having the skin beneath them wet - that was the worst feeling known to man. Or, mutant, at least. But it didn't matter - he was in the cold, the rain, and the sleet, and had also been stricken by the reality that his mother didn't accept him for who he was. That sucked. In fact, it royally sucked, and Victor couldn't help but let it affect him, or specifically, anger him.

How was being a mutant possibly better than being gay? How was living with a skeleton of lizardesque spikes and scales possibly easier to comprehend than the 'shocking' reality of homosexuality? Victor didn't even let it define him; it was a part of him, fine, but it was hardly the entire basis of his existence. Rather, it was just an aspect of himself that he had become comfortable with - mostly with the help and grace of Paras. But aside from that, it was hardly something that changed who he was.

When he turned into a mutant, his parents showed nothing but the purest of sympathy, and although they mourned that their son would not be treated as an equal to his classmates - albeit '_former_' classmates since mutants were, and are not allowed to attend regular schools - they did not hold it against him personally. Besides, how was waking up with a reptilian body of green overlapping panels possibly his fault? Yet Victor got the impression that his mother felt that his homosexuality was, rather, self-inflicted. _Self-inflicted!_ The nerve of her. _'If only she knew,_' Victor mused, his thoughts almost becoming words, _'As if living as a mutant isn't hard enough; does she think I woke up one day and said: 'From today onwards, I'm going to screw men!' Please.' _Victor whole heartedly cringed at his mental remark, but then shrugged as he got the point across to himself.

_'Ugh, I need to see Paras,' _his brain moaned, as his leg penetrated a water-filled pothole and his jeans became saturated with black, oily water. Could it get any worse? Oh wait, yes it could. The agreement. Victor sighed with exasperation as he remembered the deal he made with Paras - the 'no touching, no kissing, no hugging, no affection, no being young, no fun' rule. Oh yes, _that_ rule. It wasn't as if Victor didn't respect it, in fact, he obeyed it without an iota of deviation, but it was times like these when he slightly regretted his decision of agreement. He wanted someone to be there when he got back, someone to embrace him, coddle him, and tell him everything would be okay. Although he knew Paras would do the latter, that was something even parents could do, and they weren't exactly the type of people Victor wanted to think about around then. Mark had taught him to respect Paras's beliefs and religion; and that was all fine and great, but in the name of Christ, would a hug really condemn him to eternal hell? It was hardly sin number one in any major world faith.

_'Maybe Paras is taking this too far,' _Victor said to himself, walking head-down as the rain poured over his hood. Maybe if Victor just explained how he needed Paras, this once, to show some sort of affection; it was what he needed, after-all, in light of the recent vacuity of it. His mother was such a hoover. She just came, sucked up Victor's foundations, and trotted off into the distance like something out of a cheesy 70's romcom. She could keep her cookies, _and_ her excessive happiness all Victor cared. He didn't need them; he didn't need her. "Screw her," he muttered to the air. But despite his self-convincing, there was still that nascent seed in his head that would soon blossom into emotions of sadness and isolation, but Victor continued to eschew that realization - it was Paras who would help him surmount it. Paras would understand; Paras would show companionship. Paras was the key to all of his problems.

The tension in his stomach told him that he'd probably undue himself when he saw Paras's empathetic eyes, but the need for his partner's embrace and fervor then hazed this apprehension and he marched onwards, walking defiantly in the opposite direction to his mother. Anger was a great temporary replacement for sadness, Victor concluded, and so when he saw the entrance to the mutant safe-haven that he called home, he managed to hold himself together as he neared Paras's location.

_'I'm going to stay with it,'_ he repeated to himself mentally, a mantra of assurance._ 'I'm not going to shed a tear over her. She doesn't deserve it.' _He found himself squelching through the water-logged courtyards and hopping onto the engraved pathway as he neared the entrance to the school. Thankfully he had permission to leave the grounds this time, and didn't have to climb in his window to elude the eyes of educational authority; every cloud had its silver lining. . well, except for these ones, Victor mused, these ones seemed to love spitting on the small flecks of humans and mutants beneath them. '_Scratch that, no silver lining here,'_ he declared to himself.

He was ushered in by Harry, the cafeteria/door/janitor man, and he immediately took a right, into the boys' leg of dorms. Despite being in a mansion of misfits and mutants (but predominantly misfits,) Victor knew he was home. There was no denying the obvious feeling of familiarity and belonging he felt while being in Xaviers. At the thought of being surrounded by concerned faces of people who'd ask _"Victor, are you okay? You're soaked!" _Victor doubted that he'd be able to retain his decorum under their worries, as he knew that if one person even _thought_ about asking if he was alright, he'd most definitely melt into a ball of tears and sobs. Then again, 9/10 mutants in the school had mommy or daddy issues, so what better place to have a parental-related break down than Xavier's Institute of Higher Learning?

His hands were too shivery to wrap his fingers around the keys in his pocket, so Victor slapped a floppy fist against the surface of the door until he heard the other side click and pop with the opening of clasps. Within a second, Victor was in the arms of Paras and sobbing as he promised himself he wouldn't. Paras's face expressed immediate shock, and then worry, probably at the fact Victor looked like he'd been shot or mugged. But remembering where Victor had gone, and assuming that to be the cause of his anguish, Paras remained still and allowed Victor to get it all out.

"She walked away," he sobbed, anger and mirth now devoid from his demeanor. "I told her Paras, about you, about me, about us, and she walked away."

Paras frowned and guided Victor to the edge of the bed, where he unwrapped him from his shoulders and handed him a tissue. "Victor, I'm-"

"She dropped her bag," he interjected with a moan, "she was so shocked that she dropped her bag." He remembered how he promised he wouldn't let it affect him earlier, but seeing Paras's face had pulled the rug from beneath him, and all the suppressed insecurities and doubts immediately embodied him. He wiped his eyes and growled at himself. "Sorry. I told myself I'd keep it together."

Paras, remaining sympathetic, smiled below his negatively sloped eyebrows and slouched his back so that he'd be on Victor's level. "You don't need to be proud in front of me, Victor. This is what I'm here for - I'm here to support you."

His partner's words evoked a wave of tears again, and as Mrs Borkowski's face painted itself in Victor's mind as he physically cringed and crippled over himself. "I don't understand. How could she just walk away? How could she just look at me and walk away?"

"She needs time, Janam. This is a lot for her to take in too."

"She doesn't deserve time," Victor sobbed, "I never had time to come to terms with my mutation. I was just thrown into it one day and expected to adapt. Why can't she just adapt to me? Why won't she just accept me?"

"She's not as strong as you," Paras said softly, his hands on his thighs. "You may not feel it now, but you are much stronger than she is. She needs time to allow it to sink in, and then she will call you."

Victor slightly acquiesced; of course it would take Paras to help him to see the other side of something. He hadn't pondered the idea that perhaps his mother was just unequipped for surprises. Maybe space - more than the existing amount - would be beneficial to both of them? Maybe that's what they needed - to accept each-others' differences?

Victor nodded. "I was thinking of you," he said with a sniff, wiping his eyes. "When she left like that, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you, to be with you." He reached forward and tugged on Paras's shirt, using it as a bridge to connect them.

Except Paras tilted backwards and pulled his shirt back against him. "Victor, we made an agree-"

"I could only think about holding you against me and waking up beside you," Victor apprised softly, leaning closer to Paras. "I knew that you were all I needed. I knew that you'd make everything go away. When the rain was pouring over me and the wind was blowing into my face - I didn't care, because no amount of it was going to keep me from you."

"Please Victor, I need to remind you-"

"Just this once," he whispered in response, his breath upon Paras's neck. "I needed you then.. and I need you now. Let me show you what you mean to me - just this once." He tilted his face and closed his eyes and his lips _almost_ met Paras's. Suddenly, there was no-one beside him, and he lost his equilibrium.

"Victor no!" Paras bellowed, leaping from the bed and causing Victor to tumble to the floor as he leaned forward into what he thought would be Paras. "Control yourself!" he cursed, brows knitted. Confused, Victor looked up, and saw Paras's shocked face peering down at him. He knew then that his partner had no intentions of breaking the '_rule_,' even this one time, and despite the day Victor had had, Paras was still putting his faith before him. Paras didn't want Victor, as Ms Borkowski hadn't, and the reptilian wobbled to his feet and looked Paras right in the eye, a chilling realization dawning upon him.

"Really?" he growled, "_Rea_lly? After everything that's happened today, you won't even kiss me? God damn it Paras, this is a joke." His earlier tears found zeal from his anger, and as one escaped down his cheek, a few successors followed. Paras's mouth dropped slightly, and he waved his arms in front of his body. "You promised me, Victor. You told me you respected my beliefs; you said that the most important thing was that we were _together_."

"And it _is_," Victor replied, glimmers in the corners of his eyes, "But I just thought that you'd put that aside for me just this once, that we'd prove what we mean to each oth-"

"An agreement is an agreement," Paras snapped, "I can't believe you'd use your own hardships as an exemption from the promise I've made! This is something beyond you and I, and beyond this earth. I remain restricted _now_, so that I can be free _later_ - why would you want to come between that?"

"Because I'm the object of this shitty promise!" Victor barked, stomping his foot in his Paras's direction. "You'll get eternal happiness and whatever, but what about me? I just die as the idiot whose life was dictated by an agreement between his boyfriend and some imaginary figure! No, this is bull, Paras!"

An expression of deep, inner rage tainted Paras's features, and as Victor watched him transmute into a ball of anger, he took a step back and swallowed his tongue, regretting how blunt he'd been. The Indian mutant's lip snarled and before Victor could even watch the lines in Paras's face deepen any further, he was walloped by a thick, violet surface and was sent crashing into the wall behind.

The wall cracked and Victor slid down, barely conscious. In the faded vision before him, he could make out an armored form and a heavy chest expanding and shrinking in acrimonious inhalations. His back and head numb, Victor allowed his body to lop-side and he momentarily couldn't feel anything blow his waist. Paras remained in his stance, unaware of what he did, due to a haze of fury numbing his heed. Did he do what Victor thought he had done? Did he just use his powers to _hurt_ Victor? Dizzy, confused and not knowing how to feel or react, Victor used his arms to pull himself from the wall and allow his body to re-connect its nerves.

Thankfully he was a durable creature. The silver lining he had thought about earlier? There it was; he managed to crawl away relatively unscathed due to his rubbery skin and flexible bones, but that didn't prevent a pounding headache from stealing him. He stood to his feet regardless and watched Paras, as if he was cornered by a bird of prey. With two hands in front of him, Victor bitterly choked: "I'm going to leave now Paras. That means I have to walk past you. Please don't _hit_ me again."

Taking three or four apprehensive steps in Paras's direction, Victor noticed that his other half seemed unresponsive, still heaving heavily in-and-out as if the air was going to run out. Fearful - not of being hit, but rather of being emotionally scarred again - Victor slowly stepped past the person he thought he'd never doubt, and scurried out of the room, without even closing the door behind him.

He had stopped crying at that stage. His emotions were indiscernible. If someone had asked him how he was feeling, _"I don't know,"_ would've been his answer. That was the truth. He really didn't know how he felt - the numbness wasn't just psychical anymore. It had spread to ever fiber of his being and had consumed him. Where sadness and anguish had left him empty, anger had ensconced itself within the pit in his stomach, and as the halls remained hollow and devoid of students, Victor's stomps could be heard as he indignantly marched to a different location - a place where he could be free of Paras for a few hours at least.

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

While havoc ensued a few doors down from him, Jay pondered when would be the appropriate time to tell someone of what he'd discovered thanks to Jaeda. He couldn't just blurt it out to everyone; Emma would probably say it was a rumor to the other students, before expelling him and Josh for participating in a 'student rebellion.' Speak of rebellions; Jay had no idea that Emma thought Warren was plotting against her. It made no sense. Warren never indicated that he wanted her job, nor did he act as such. Besides, was it worth sending him to prison over it? _'There must be something I can do,'_ Jay said to himself, as he sat, chin-in-palms at the end of his bed.

He'd need to tell Josh first. That was a given; Josh had a large role to play in, what led to, a conspiracy. It he hadn't left, Warren and Jay wouldn't have gone to New York in the first place and Paddy Parsons wouldn't have died. But it probably didn't matter anyway; if Emma was so bent on getting rid of Warren, she would have found some other reason to see him off. Her reasons, of course, were still unknown, but they were irrelevant in that time. _Why_ she did it wasn't as important as the _fact_ she did it. Jay shuddered as he thought of life in prison as a mutant: If Warren was being held alongside 'other' murderers, how would they treat him with those large, broad wings? It didn't bare thinking about. If he even had his wings - and they hadn't been cut off for whatever reason - he would definitely be alienated for having them in the first place. And it's not like the prison staff would have cared about his welfare either. If Warren 'disappeared,' it would simply be a matter of turning a blind eye to it. Mutants at Xaviers were always warned about being careful not to break the laws, as police enjoyed finding any reason to lock mutants up. The prejudice was undeniable, and so, having a traitor amongst them - that being Emma Frost - was shockingly unnerving, and as for Jay specifically, holding this information made it as if he were walking on egg shells.

Jaeda had informed him that a resistance, of such, was being run by Beast. When he learned this, he quickly noted that he had allies before even getting involved in the situation; he needed to contact McCoy. That was his best bet to ensure that justice was seen. As far as Jay was concerned, there were two people who desperately needed to be removed from their current situations. The first, of course, was Warren, who didn't deserve to be where he was. And the second was Emma, for reasons pertaining to corruption. It had also been an eye-opener for Jay that he wasn't, in fact, aware of everything that was going on in the school. He always thought that he was clued in to the behind the scenes happenings, but Jaeda's information had proved otherwise. Who would've thought: Emma betrayed Warren; Beast was leading a rebellion; Warren was in prison, and Emma had lost the plot? It was rather overwhelming to absorb it all, and the fact Jay had been burdened with this grave responsibility didn't help either.

Strategy and timing were key. He needed to keep it quiet, lest Emma find out, and the best way to do that was to bring it to the attention of the people who were already on his side. The choice had already been made. Jay snatched the dorm's fixed-phone and called the number of Hank McCoy's room.

"Hank here,"

"Sorry to disturb you Mr. McCoy, it's Jay. Listen, I think I have something you might want to hear?" said Jay.

"Oh?" Beast's voice ascended. "What does it pertain to, exactly?"

"Emma Frost," said Jay flatly, knowing that that was enough. The line dropped and within seconds, five cacophonous knocks echoed through the dorm. Knowing wholly who it was, Jay opened the door. Beast bursted in without invitation and turned to Jay after the door was closed.

"What do you know? How do you know?" asked Beast firmly, if not rapidly. "Explain what you meant in your call."

"I meant what I said," said Jay factually. "I know everything. I know about Emma, Warren, and what she did to him." He stopped, and his expression dropped. "In fact, it bothers me that I didn't know the whole story in the first place. I was _there_, Hank, I'm one of the only two witnesses left."

McCoy sighed. "I was, and am aware of that. But this secrecy of this matter is detrimental to Warren's freedom, so I need you to answer me when I ask how do you know this? Is there anybody else who knows?" There was no denying the tension in the air, and Beast's seriousness was another eye-opener for Jay as to what he was now involved in. But regardless of that, there was no point giving up Jubilation's name; she made it clear that the conversation had _never happened_ anyway. "How I know isn't important," said Jay, using the same line Jaeda had used on him. "Just accept that I know."

"I'm sorry Jay, but that isn't good enough. I need to know how you know this. Does someone else know? Who told you?"

Jay acquiesced with a sigh. "Yes," he admitted. "Someone told me. But he or she is not going to say it to anyone, because they were only interested in telling one person, and they told me."

Beast seemed unconvinced. The fact he didn't blink made the tension cuttable. "How sure are you of this? How does he or she know the truth? There must be a leak somewhere, and we can't risk that."

"Please Mr. McCoy, calm down. I would not have admitted that there was another person if I thought they were a risk. I'm confident that this information ends with me, in relation to the students who know." With that, Beast took a breath and wiped his furry forehead with a blue hand. "Very well," he sighed. "Since you seem to know the truth, what is it you need from me?"

"I want to know what you're doing to free Warren," declared Jay, moving to the armchair and sitting down, shuffling his wings comfortably behind him. Jay was lucky that teachers had always thought of him as an old soul; it helped in times like these, when he needed to not be thought of as a student. Although, he was one of the _oldest_ students in the school, teachers didn't relate to that, so he relied on his innately matured traits to carry him in authoritative times of seriousness.

"Right now," Beast started, looking at Jay, "we've just gotten Mr. Summers to agree to take the position over Emma in light of what she did to Warren. It won't be easy to remove her from power, but with enough support, I think we can do it."

Then Jay briefly interjected, a question nagging him in the back of his head, "So why not tell the students? If it's support you need, why not turn to the largest group of people?"

Beast sighed. "Because it's our word against Emma's. Yes, it's true we have two witnesses here, but she will just say that we've poisoned you against her. Right now, this needs to remain an issue amongst the staff. Please trust us, Jay. We're doing our best to remove Emma but we need time to do that. If it's a duty you want, then let silence be it. You're doing the staff a great service by doing nothing."

Something wiggled in Jay's mind. 'Doing nothing' didn't wash with him; 'Doing nothing,' was what caused the tensions between the Guthrie's and the Sanctum's to explode; 'doing nothing' was what almost got Josh killed in New York when he was hunted by a group of deranged anti-mutants; 'doing nothing' was the reason Warren was still locked up and possibly dead. The one thing Jay _wasn't_ prepared to do, was nothing. "With respect, sir," he exclaimed with frustration, "if Warren knew that we were doing nothing, I believe he would give up any hope he's managed to salvage."

Beast stopped pacing around the room then, and peered at Jay in the eyes. "We're not the ones who need to be stagnant," said Beast, "_you_ are. Please Jay, you need to trust me. Warren was a good friend of mine, and it's in my interest to see him free - to see any restrained mutant free. I'm doing everything in my power - that's all I can tell you." He lifted his glasses to the apex of his head and took a breath in. "Can you keep this to yourself, Jay? Can you do that?"

Although innately reluctant, Jay didn't want to be the one to ruin any existing plans he didn't know about. Beast _did_ seem certain that he knew what he was doing, and so Jay decided to remain silent, for now, until the truth was out in the open. He just hoped that Scott and Beast would be able to overthrow Emma as planned. Above all, he begged the Gods that Beast wasn't in over his head, and moreover, he wished for Warren to be free, sooner rather than later.

"Fine, I'll do it," he replied. "I'll stay silent. For now."

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"Awk mate, don't destroy th'room while Ah'm gone."

"It's a dorm, it's made to be destroyed," replied Mark dryly, shaking a towel through his hair as he had just stepped out of the shower. Ben grimaced, and Mark knew that that was his cue to bring it a step further. "_Fine_," he groaned. "I wasn't planning on destroying it anyway.. I need it clean so that the strippers know where to put the pole when they arrive."

Ben rolled his eyes, and Mark went on. "Are you _sure_ you want to leave? I mean, strippers, Ben. _Strippers_."

"Th'only thing that'll be stripped 'round 'ere are those headphones, if Ah faind a mess when Ah get back," replied Ben, with feigned anger, and Mark shrugged.  
"Oh you'll find a mess," he replied nonchalantly. "But not the mess you're thinking of."

Ben's face shriveled, as if he had bitten into a lemon and his nose crinkled upwards. With a shudder, he said, "Yer disgustin', mate. Again, no mess, and no life needs t'be lost."

"Say hi to Laurie and Noriko for me, and I'll pass your regards onto my strippers Stacey and Hannah. Ooft, what a pity.. I had two as well.. Oh well, more for me," Mark teased. It was so easy to wind Ben up, and the best thing about it was that Ben was the type who could never leave a situation without being certain that it was going to go his way. Of course, Mark had no intentions of messing up the room or ordering strippers, but Ben didn't need to know that, and so, the mocking continued. "I'll try to clean everything up, for your sake, but don't get mad if you find a few tools around the dorm when you get back."

Ben coughed. "Tools?"

"Imaginaaation Ben. Use your imaginaaaation."

"Tools, you mea-? S'revoltin' mate!" Ben gasped, his palm against his mouth. "This is a joke, no?"

"Answering that would ruin the joke.. Oh wait.." he stopped and slapped his face. "Well I guess that's the end of that! Congrats, joke killer. Happy now?"

"Beamin'."

"I bet you are."

With that, Ben shuffled out of the room and Mark slung over his bed and zapped the television on. Finally, he had the television to himself; Ben always hogged it to watch his grass-growingly boring geographical documentaries, and at one stage, when it featured the Scottish Highlands, Ben forced everyone in their wing of the dorms to watch it as he declared, "S'where Ah'm from!" It was a moment not to be remembered.. except for Mark, who laughed at each time someone politely excused themselves from the room to escape a near-death experience of raw boredom.

"Poor Benbo," Mark chuckled to himself, flicking the channel as far away from the documentaries section, while stumbling upon countless televised re-creations of famos plays or teleshopping adds. But much to his surprise, he then stumbled upon a channel of quite a _different_ nature. He sat up, looked at the door, and then back to the screen again. _'Hasn't the school blocked these yet?'_ he asked himself.Apparently not, and so Mark took a moment to watch the bare figures on the screen. The woman was attractive, blonde, and of course, naked, which was a huge plus, and she had curves in all the right places. Conscious of Ben coming back in light of forgetting something, Mark switched the channel back to something boring until he was certain that there were no sound from outside.

Flicking the channel back over, he glazed upon the woman's body for a little longer, until he felt much hotter than he had before. Placing a palm under his head, he moved the other underneath his towel. It had been a while since he had a girl in his life; in light of the last few years, he hadn't had the chance to go out and meet anyone, so any relations he had had in the immediate past were those pertaining to friendships, or harmless flirting. He often mused that the 'class clown' front may have been intimidating to girls in the school, and when he was voted "most flirtatious," a few months back, it didn't help when he tried to genuinely express himself to girls he liked. He was always "Mark, the clown," or "Mark, the flirt." But this didn't bother him, and why would it? He was being himself, after all. All he knew was that fitting the labels that had been given to him actually provided him some form of identity, and a place in the crowd.

The heat rushed into him as he watched the woman on the screen, and he pulled the towel from his waist to aid himself in his bubble of expanding bliss. He focused on her body, her curves and his speed increased. The volume was muted, but he didn't need it. She was blonde, and that qualified her enough as far as he was concerned. He was always attracted to blondes; maybe it was a dark haired thing? People always liked what they couldn't have or be. Perhaps that was why his head always turned at the sight of blonde models or actresses on television. Oh yes, the television. The muscles in his stomach tensed as he gripped tighter.

_'Should've showered after this. Stupid Mark, stupid,'_ he thought to himself mirthfully, grinning widely.

After coming to Xaviers, Mark had been rather lost as to who he was. He didn't feel as if he fitted in one particular social crowd. Again, this was the reason he embraced the 'funny guy' and 'flirty' labels when they came his way. They were something: A role for him to play. An identity of some sort was better than none at all - for him, anyway. Things that had happened had made him want to shed his old definition of himself and adopt a new one. So Mark actually frowned upon people who complained that, 'they couldn't be themselves,' as he, after years of searching, had found a new identity to replace his old one. 'Just be the person you want to be!' he always said. They say actions defined you, when it was how you defined yourself, that was important to Mark. If the definition based on actions was what defined him completely, then he would still be the ruffled teen on the streets, picking through bins for something to sell.

But definition or no definition, his mind was focused on one thing only. Even if the statement, 'Men have one-tracked minds' wasn't a blanket one, it would still apply to him. The woman on the screen had his attention in her hands - well, figuratively, since her hands were preoccupied elsewhere - and Mark's eyes gazed upon her without as much as a blink.

"Screw the strippers," he panted to himself. His pace quickened, his eyes closed, and he grunted under his breath as he almost, just _almost_, came to a climax. But there was then a rush of frantic slams on the other side of the door that caused him to jolt and kick the towel from his knees. Suddenly, Mark gasped and let go of himself; he flopped from the bed, as his legs were too weak to support him fully, and he scurried to his chest of drawers to seek out the thickest shorts or jeans he could find.. any that could hide his excessive bulge. The knocks on the door were louder, deeper and it sounded as if someone was being murdered against it. It was Xaviers, after all, _anything _could happen, so he didn't doubt any possibility.

Although his bulging concerns were not sated, he limped to the door, still light headed and agitated to have been interrupted. He quickly unlocked the clasp and twisted the nob. Before he could even see who it was, a person crashed inside the room and stomped to the armchair at the other side, and growled before slamming down upon it.

"Victor?" Mark panted, turning himself strategically so that his evidence wouldn't be noticed. "Victor, what're you doing here?"

A valid question. What _was_ Victor doing there? As Mark inspected him, he could see that the reptilian seemed rather beat-up, and not just emotionally. A heavy chest and thick, earthy breathing was all that could be heard until Mark spoke again. "Vick.. are you.. okay? What happened to you?" His friend remained silent, and so Mark didn't push; he slid down the wall and waited for his visitor to say something. As Victor calmed down, his acerbic, acrimonious eyes neutralized before being replaced by pupils of bother and cumbersome sadness.

Mark spoke again, prudently. "Victor. Are you okay?"

"I'm jolly, Mark. Really fucking jolly. You know why? Because the person I'm with is more fucked up than I am."

Lifting an eyebrow and conscious of remaining neutral, Mark said nothing for a moment before responding. "You're not fucked up, Vicky," he opined, "and neither is Paras. Tell me what happened?"

Victor huffed, sighed and then got up from the chair and slid down the wall beside Mark, shoulder-to-shoulder. "His religion again. I met my mom today, told her about Paras and I. She didn't take it well, and that really got to me. I didn't want it to, but it did. When I got back here, I told Paras everything, and I -" he sighed again, and tilted his head down. "I guess I just wanted him to comfort me, you know? I just wanted him to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. But he didn't. He did with his words, but not with his actions-"

"Vick, we've already spoken about this. You know how important his religion is to him.."

"Believe me, I know that now," he muttered under his breath. "I just thought he'd put it aside for me just this once. I needed him today Mark, and he let me down. He let me down big time.. and he.." Victor stopped to gather himself, but his anguish did not go unnoticed by Mark. ".. he hit me. Used his powers against me, actually. He knocked me back with his armor and I hit the wall.." Mark's eyes visibly widened, but he refrained from passing judgement, and instead, allowed Victor to recount. "It hurt, a lot, but that's not what bothered me. What bothered me was when I had to walk past him to leave, I felt fear. _Fear_, Mark. I was _scared_ of Paras; not so much at whether he'd hit me again, but that he might let me down again.. that he'd a little bit more like.."Victor stopped and cirlced his temples, his breathing shaky.

"More like what?" Mark asked quietly.

"More like the person I don't want him to be," he admitted, feeling a little selfish to say that in words. "I know that sounds judgmental, or whatever you want to call it, but every day I could see him becoming more and more devout and preoccupied with his religion, and it felt as if he had forgotten about me. He accused me of using my problem with my Mom as an excuse to break his stupid agreement, and yeah, maybe that's true. But I'm human, I mean, kill me for wanting some affection." Anger stirred in his throat once again and his eyes began to bulge. "I know I was wrong to tell him I'd respect his wishes, but I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. I want Paras; I want to be with Paras.. but I can't be with someone who puts me so low on their list of priorities."

"I think you're higher on his priorities list than you think, Vicky," said Mark amicably, standing up to get a shirt from his drawer before sliding back down the wall again. "But no, I think you're right. I mean, if a girl I was with told me we couldn't even touch.. things would get difficult."

Victor sighed. "But it's not as if I'm some kind of sexual loon, It's just.. when someone who you're romantically involved with tells you that you cannot, under any circumstances, be romantic, your mind starts messing with you, and you start to question whether he's using religion as a front for something else." Victor stopped, and the sadness edged over his anger once again. Mark realized then that his friend was clearly battling with the two emotions. "Maybe it's my spikes..my scales.. maybe he's revolted by them."

Mark cleared his throat. _'Okay, that's it,' _he said to himself. "It's not your scales, Vick. Paras has a physical mutation himself, why do you think he'd judge you for yours? I'm sure he's a lot of things, but c'mon dude, a hypocrite to that extreme? I kind of doubt it." Victor deflated and tilted his head against the wall, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as they had when he was with Paras. "Maybe he _is_ just a hypocrite," he remarked, clearly cynical due to his confrontation with Paras. "This whole agreement bullshit is devaluing. If he has a problem with how I look, then he should have the balls to say it to me straight."

Mark groaned. "Quit making assumptions. Victor, if he has a problem with how you look, then he's an idiot, because - and I know this will be a shock coming from me - there's a hell of a lot more to people than looks. I know having a physical mutation is something you're insecure about, but the only person telling you there's something wrong with it, is you."

It went dead quiet for a moment and Mark noticed that Victor was trying to hide the fact that the globs of water in the corners of his eyes had allowed one or two tears to slip.

Then Victor looked up, hopeful. "You mean that?"

Mark half-smiled. "I know it, Vick."

A silence imbued, and Mark tilted his head towards the floor, allowing everything to sink in. Victor, on the other hand, watched his friend as it dawned on him that he was looking at Mark in a new light. Beyond the witty and clowny exterior, Mark had perspective, experience and sensitivity. Victor was always told by his mother to never underestimate people - they're not always what they seemed at first, and often, they'd surprise you, and may, even, show a side to them that you never thought existed. Victor realized that this held true for his friend; he hadn't noticed a lot of things about Mark, but this soft interior was the most noticeable one. He also never noticed how brown his eyes were, or how wavy his black hair was; in fact, he could've been mistaken as Spanish or Portuguese. Victor's eyes cruised down to see the lines in his friend's arms and the toned muscles that gave shadowy perspectives to the lighter and darker shades of his skin against the lamplight. _'Shit,' _Victor thought to himself, _'shit, this can't be happening. No, Victor stop.'_

To distract himself, the reptilian looked up to view the room and take in his surroundings. It wasn't until he turned away did he catch a glimpse of color in the corner of his eye, causing him to rise his gaze to where it had previously been. He then saw the television.. and the.. _'Oh boy,' _he drawled to himself. '_Is that por-?' _His face then reddened and his cheeks inflated as he held back a chortle. Of course, the dams burst, and he then erupted into a fit of sudden laughter.

Mark instantly turned to see what was so funny, and he eyes Victor suspiciously. "You okay, Vicky?" he asked, eyes all over the place. The reptilian fell over himself laughing, and even snorted as he inaccurately pointed at the cause of his reaction. "What? What is it?" Mark asked, looking all around the room for something funny. "What're you laughing at?"

Finally, Victor inhaled loudly and managed to form a sentence, but not before three failed attempts and some minor choking. "_Porn_, Mark? Really?" He collapsed again, and slapped his hand against the floor, if not excessively so, to cover the fact he was slightly disappointed to see that it was, in fact, a _woman_ on the screen. Mark gasped loudly, and his olive skin turned bright red and he held his head in shame. Victor hit him. "Come on man, say something," he cajoled, poking Mark's arm playfully. "This is _gold_."

"Yeah, yeah, get it all out," he drawled, head low. "Glad you're getting a rise out of it."

"A rise doesn't even come close," Victor howled. "Did I interrupt you while you were swinging the chain? Did I walk in while you were choking the chicken?" He curled over with laughter and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "How about while you were fondling the mangos? Peeling the banana? Fisting the mister? Cleaning your rifle? Nulling the void? Snapping the whip? Varnishing the flagpole? Ooh, how about Nerking your throbber?" he stopped and took a breath. "Pulling the carrot? Loping the mule? Oiling the grove? Poshing your Becks? Marching the German solider? Spanking the salami? Punching the munchkin?"

Mark was scarlet at this stage, and Victor would've felt endearingly for him had the opportunity not been so precious. "Are you done yet?" Mark bleated shrinkingly, his head completely slung and his expression somewhere between a chortle and a shudder A devilish grinned befell Victor and he cleared his throat.

"Not yet," he apprised. "Plucking the petals? Raising the flagpole? Summoning the Pope? Shaking the twins' playpen? Smackin' the Krackin'? Charging the laser? Violating the one eyed trouser snake?"

Then Mark bursted out laughing, and turned to Victor. "Violating the one eyed trouser snake? Really?"

"Don't look at me," he disavowed with a grin. "You're the expert." Mark stood up and zapped the television off, folding his arms as he peered over a mirthfully decrepit Victor. "Now I wish they _had_ banned that shit."

Victor howled again. "Oh _I_ don't. The more stuff like this that happens to you, the more enjoyment I get." The reptilian took a while to control himself after what he'd seen. He never expected Mark to be so easily cornered into a situation like that, and he suppressed another cackle as he thought of a scenario where it was a teacher or parent at the door; he chuckled under his breath again and inflated his chest. _'Too sore from laughing. Can't move.' _Then he realized that his worries had slipped away in that moment. Mark's little mishap had actually made him feel better, but in the back of his mind, a voice told him that he needed to get back to Paras, while his body, and the lustful part of him wished for him to stay.

"Enjoyment out of my pain? If you asked me, I'd say you were a masochist, Borkowski," commented Mark. Victor chuckled and cracked his knuckles nonchalantly while preventing himself from replacing the word 'enjoyment' with something closer to 'pleasure,' from Mark's sentence. The ambience then lulled and Victor sighed through the remnants of his laughter before Paras's face began to seep into his mind. With that, his shoulders dropped and his smile waned.

"I should probably go," he sighed, mentally face-palming himself for thinking of Mark in any way beyond a friend. "Paras will be wondering."

Mark's brow raised. "Oh? You sure you're okay to go back there? I mean, I don't want to see you getting thrown against a wall again."

'_And caring too.. Goddamn Victor, control yourself.'__  
_

Victor eschewed his guilt. "No, it's okay. Paras goes to sleep early so he'll probably be out by now. I'm pretty quiet too, so he won't hear me come in."

"Well isn't it great for you, Mr. I'mAReptileAndICanSneakIntoPeo plesRoomsWhenTheyLeastExpect It," said Mark with a chuckle. "Go, begone!"

Victor laughed until the ambience lulled again, and he took a step closer to his friend.. or whatever he was. "Thanks Mark. I really appreciate you being here, y'know.. for me."

Mark clasped his shoulder. "Don't worry Vicky, I've got your back whenever you need me... just.. give me a little time to answer next time." Victor smiled and exposed a row of teeth. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "Thanks again Mark, I'd be lost if you hadn't been here."

Mark rolled his eyes light heartedly and ushered Victor to the door. "Don't mention it Vicky. Just don't break a nail on your way back."

For anyone else, Victor would've jumped down their throat for a comment like that. But because it was Mark, because they were friends, it was okay, and in fact, Victor liked having someone who didn't treat him differently despite what was going on in his life. But regardless of feeling much better since his time with his friend, there was still a slew of issues that weighed down his mood. There was the seemingly insurmountable problem with Paras that would inevitably be faced in the morning. And then there was the issue of why Victor had felt something for his friend.. something that he hadn't felt in Paras in a long time.. Something fervent, and perhaps, romantic. Maybe it was just a trivial crush, maybe it was an attraction, or maybe it was a sign of how Victor needed a refreshing break from the strict life his partner made him live under. Regardless, there were many roads that had to be crossed before Victor could relax, and the first one was with Paras - the number one priority on _his_ list. With another sigh, Victor ambled down the hall and back towards his room, feeling sick at the thought of seeing the crack on the wall as he entered. When Mark's door closed behind him, Victor felt a sense of emptiness and vulnerability. He felt larger than life, but yet, due to break his neck all-the-same. He didn't want to have to face Paras alone; not then, not that night, and not the next day. He just wanted to be himself, to be young and be free. He had been robbed of so much in his life, and in some ways he felt as if Paras was taking the one last thing he had to his name - his youth.

It was true. Tomorrow would be a long day, and he'd have to face it. But at least he'd have someone to go to if it all went wrong. Mark's face swirled into Victor's mind, and the mutant's bottom lip dropped as he saw his friend's defined features and toned chest and arms decorate his mind. He smiled brightly to himself.

Maybe it wasn't all bad. Maybe he had someone to make him feel better after all. "I can do this," he whispered to himself. "I can get through this."


	20. Une Amitié Sans Prétention

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As the haziness and rage began to mitigate, and the head-rush of excessive oxygen cooled down, Paras found himself standing - alone- in his dorm with the crack in the wall in front of him as his only company. He didn't remember much, but he had an idea of what had happened. Victor had slandered his religion, his authority, _everyones_' authority and because of years of being told that 'you must never defy the scriptures or the factors of self betterment' Paras couldn't contain his anger when Victor had done just that. He couldn't believe that he so blatantly disregarded Paras's core-beliefs, simply because he didn't get gratification of a _forbidden_ nature.

How could Victor have been so quick to curse his religion when he had agreed to stick by the rules and principals regarding it, a month ago? In fact, Victor had no idea what his religion meant to him, and what it had helped him through. When Paras's parents died, it was religion that pulled him through. When he left India and came to America, it was religion that guided him through the labyrinth of culture shocks and language barriers. When he knew nobody in Xaviers upon arrival, it was religion that gave him confidence to put himself out there. Religion was the basis of everything for Paras - and Victor had stepped on that.

For Paras, nobody had the right to make him feel guilty for living the lifestyle that he believed would give him salvation and release him from the cycle of life, death and rebirth. _"I live strict life now, so that I can be free later."_ That's what he said to Victor after refusing to give in to his persuasions. And this was the truth too; he had to abide by strict rules so that he could one day transcend the physical realm. One of these rules was resisting anything of a sexual nature, and Victor had almost caused him to break that. Paras wiped his face with his hand and crouched onto his legs. Did Victor realize what he almost did? Did he know that he could have ruined Paras's chances of salvation? It was a basic concept of prudence, and yet Victor had put 18 years of devotion and dedication in jeopardy all at once - and all because he sought romantic companionship. It was careless of him; so _utterly_ careless.

These rules were everything, and Paras had to be honest in his approach of abiding by them. It wasn't a case where he could break the backs of every established rule in his religion, only just pray his sins away again. It wasn't like that at all; if he broke one unintentionally, then fine, but if he went through with an action while knowing it was a sin, then that was a different story altogether. Humans were, and always have been, subject to flaw, but it was his duty to better himself and avoid these flaws as best he could. And having Victor around was starting to come in the way of that.

Would life without Victor be so bad? Paras sighed and his eyes dropped to the crumples on his T-shirt, where Victor had grasped to pull him closer. He then gazed regretfully up at the crack on the wall before continuing to stare at the floor. Yes, Victor had tried to seduce him, and Paras resisted. That was good, great in fact, but then Paras realized that where he had avoided breaking one rule, he had accidentally broken a different one. He had broken a rule in the Ahimsa, and had retorted to violence - an unarguable sin in his religion. As that dawned on him, Paras felt weak in his knees, so he plopped himself onto the floor with a groan. So many thoughts danced through his head, and so many fears were carried in those thoughts. He suddenly felt blind to the ethics of his beliefs and where "right" began, and "wrong" ended. Was he wrong to deny Victor if the situation had led to violence anyway? Or was he right to refute Victor's seductions but just happened to unintentionally sin afterwards? Who was right? Or more importantly, who was wrong?

He sat on in a niche between the wall and the edge of the bed for what must have been hours, contemplating everything. He also worried about Victor and whether he had been terribly injured during their fight. He then battled with guilt for hurting Victor in the first place, as that was something he never, ever imagined he'd ever do. The idea that he was even capable of it was rather unnerving.

When the sun hinted its arrival and the birds began to chirp, Paras still remained in his seated position, staring at the same pattern on the cream carpet and not moving his eyes from that point. When, finally, the door opened and Victor ambled in, Paras had to force himself to look up despite being plagued by guilt, anger, confusion, worry.. everything.. but guilt predominantly. Victor too seemed reluctant to make eye contact and appeared to be battling the same emotions as Paras. Neither spoke.

Paras leaned against the wall and brought his gaze towards whatever was in front of him, while Victor stepped into the shower without a word. When he came out, the silence remained until Victor finally said something: "Get up," he demanded, watching Paras sniffle against the wall. "Get up and look at me." Paras did so immediately, but his eyes stayed on Victor evanescently, as if he was taking quick glimpses at the sun. Victor took a breath. "So where do we stand?" he asked, brows knitted. "I don't know whether you're angry, sad, violent.. I have no idea. So could you tell me what's in your head?"

Paras struggled, but brought himself to look at Victor while swallowing his shame. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone descending. "I.. I don't know what I feel. I'm questioning everything."

"Like what?"

"Whether I was right.. or wrong.. I don't know."

Victor saw that asking questions wasn't getting him anywhere, so it was time to start speaking facts. "Okay first of all, clear your mind, because you can't think of shit when you're all confused and lost." He gave Paras a minute before continuing. "I'm not going to debate whether I was right or you were wrong because that won't get us anywhere.. What we need to talk about is what happened and what we're going to do about these differences we have."

_'He really has come a long way,' _thought Paras to himself, feeling a little nostalgic that their roles were somewhat reversed. "You know where I stand, Janaam. You know how my faith requires live. I'm sorry."

Victor looked down and sighed. "Don't jump straight to that. Do I have to remind you that you hit me, Paras?" He laughed bitterly at the sight before him. "The crack on the wall is such a pleasant reminder." Paras virtually shuddered then, and wiped his forehead. "Victor, I.. I don't know what came over me then.. You.. when you said that thing about my faith, about what I believe in.. something just came over me."

"So I deserved to be thrown at a wall for it?" Victor asked acerbically, "If that was anyone else, you would have killed them. And I don't even need to say that if the school caught you doing that, they'd throw you out on the street." He took a deep breath and tilted his head back to relax his neck. "Paras.. You know I don't need to say how much I appreciate you being here for me since day one. But what you did really broke me. You treated me the way I was treated before I came to this school, and it's hard to even believe that. It's like the person who built me up so much, shot me back down again."

Paras squirmed a little. "I cannot apologize enough for striking you. I can see that I broke my oath of non-violence, and Victor, I'm so sorry for that."

"And we're back to step one," Victor sighed remorsefully, his mouth open a little. "You don't seem to care that you threw me at a _wall_. It's as if you only care about the rule you've broken by doing it." He stopped and took a breath. "I thought I could live this life of never touching each other, but I can't. I can't be with you, but not with you at the same time. It's too hard, Paras. When you first told me that you were going to take the _no-sexual-activity-or-anything-that-may-suggest-thoughts-of-it_ rule seriously, do you know what crossed my mind? I pictured us as old people, still together, but sitting opposite each other on rocking chairs, both aware of the fact that we could never embrace each other in our last days." He stopped to gather himself slightly. "On one hand, I was so happy that I could see us together for that long, but then the last part of the thought scared me, because the thought of dying without another person's hand in mine scares me."

Paras remained silent, and seemed a little taken aback. It wasn't like Victor to spill himself so openly, and it was almost like he had been doing it before. Regardless, Paras felt guilt lace through him before Victor went on. "I decided to take the optimistic part of that image as my reason to say yes when you asked if I was on-board with your terms and conditions," continued Victor, his eyes sitting at the bottom of his sockets. "But the thought of us on two separate rocking chairs opposite each other, became more and more real, and that really scared me. Then the thing with my Mom happened, and I thought that maybe you'd just put it all aside for me, just that once. But when you didn't, it just made me feel unworthy.. and it sort of confirmed the rocking-chair fear in my mind."

Wide-eyed and oozing with guilt, Paras moaned into himself as Victor continued. "I hate that it annoys me that you put your religion before me. Believe me, Par, if I could change that about me, I would. But I can't. I can't compromise myself for this. I can't change the part of me that's jealous that I'll always be second for you."

"Victor.. you are not second.." Paras interjected.

"I certainly was a few hours ago."

Paras's eyes squinted and he watched Victor firmly. "It has been hard for me to balance your needs with the requirements of my faith. And I will not lie to you and tell you that that will not always be the case. But Victor, I promise.. you are much more important than anything else.. although I admit, I perhaps neglected you because my devotion."

Victor huffed, and his expression spoke words in and of itself. "Don't hate me for not believing you," he sighed. "I'm sorry, but I just don't.. _can't_ take your word for it anymore, Paras."

Paras's countenance dropped. "You don't trust me anymore?" He stared at Victor seriously and barely blinked.

Victor sighed. "No. Not completely. I hate that that's how I feel, but I don't want to lie."

A silence imbued. Victor shuffled his feet while Paras stared up at the ceiling. The next dialogue was inevitable, as far as Paras was concerned; But Victor had no idea what his partner was planning to say, and he waited in the unknown for a time that felt like hours. Paras spoke up. "Janaam," he sighed, unhidden regret and sadness in his voice. It was clear that whatever was to come next, was a struggle for him to say. "Are we supposed to be?" he asked melancholically.

Victor, not realizing - or not choosing to realize - the strength of that question, gazed wide-eyed at his other half, and spoke onwards as if nothing had been said. "Again, I hate that I can't check all the boxes, Par, but if we could just meet each other in the mid-"

"Please, Victor, answer me question."

"What question?"

"Are we supposed to be?"

"What do you mean by that?"

Paras then sighed. "We've helped each other through what many would go through in a lifetime.. but Victor.. we - you and I - are we supposed to be with each other? You don't even trust me, Janaam, and I know that's my fault, but if you can't trust me, then what do we have?"

"Us, you _and_ I, _together_," Victor gasped, feeling as if he were dreaming. "We have each-other!"_  
_

"But we _don't_!" Paras cried-out, a hand drawing down his face before he lowered his tone. "I cannot believe I am saying this Victor, but we've become distant from each other. I even hit you.. how can we possibly try and be together after that?"

"We'll get through it!"

Paras deflated, and his chest shrunk. "Janaam," he breathed. "I need time. I need time to myself to sort what is in my head. Can you give me that?"

Victor shuddered and hindered his impulse to comfort him. "O.. of course.. but for how long? I mean, is this you finishing it?" Paras's head perked up and his eyes leaked with remorse and shame. "It's time apart. I need it; I need to forgive myself for what I did to you, and you need to recover after what I did to you." Victor felt a little numb, but tried not to show it, with Paras's best interests at heart. "I want you to be happy," he said. "I don't want you to wake up every morning with regrets. If time apart will help you be like that, then I'm willing."

Paras smiled through his sadness before he then stood on the frontier of his rules by placing a hand on Victor's shoulder. "Thank you Janaam. I need this." Victor croaked to himself, but again, kept his cool and smiled despite feeling slightly estranged from Paras entirely. It hadn't sunk in that they were essentially taking a break from each other -something that had never happened between them before.

"Where will I go?" asked Victor shakily. "I don't know anyone with a free bed in his dorm?"

"_I_ will go," replied Paras. "I am the one who needs the space, so it's me who should go."

Victor leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. "Then where to?"

"I'll ask some of the others. I've heard that many rooms have sofas that turn into beds." That made Victor smile as he imagined Paras breaking the legs of a device so feeble, before the reality shocked him again and his cheeks dropped. He nodded courteously to Paras as if they had only known each other for a few days, before he left the dorm to let his roommate pack some things.

As he walked down the hall, he felt the same feelings of vulnerability, but this time, he was confused as to where to go, or what to do next. Everything he had done had been something related to Paras, and now that that aspect of his life was on hold, Victor found himself at a loss as to what to do or where to go. Also, he was undeniably hurt over what the fight had done to them. He never thought that that would've been the ultimate chink in their armor, and that reality weighted down on him. He felt as if someone had temporarily taken away his left foot, his crutch, or his other half and without that, he felt empty.

He found himself thinking of when he first met Paras. He had arrived at the school, scared, nervous and always on edge. Paras had taken him under his wing and over the course of the years they'd spent together, standing within the gazes of not only mutant prejudices, but homosexual ones too, they had bonded together to a point of dependency. Victor once needed to be cared _for_, and Paras needed someone to be cared _to, _yet here they were, apart, distant, estranged and barely able to look at each other in the eye. It was difficult for Victor to think of them in contrast to now without feeling nostalgic and regretful.

_'Maybe I'm unreasonable,' _he thought to himself. _'Maybe I'm the problem.'_ No, he had to stick by his beliefs. What kind of person would he be if, despite every hardship, he was willing to change who he was and what he stood for. Even if it meant having space from Paras, he couldn't lose his conviction or integrity. He believed what he stood for, and all he could do was hope that Paras would perhaps think about what was important. It wasn't as if Victor was asking him to become a professional male stripper; all he wanted was to be able to kiss the person he wanted to be with, now and again. Was that too much to ask?

Mark would've said so. In fact, Mark would've said that Victor shouldn't have started a relationship with someone so dedicated to his faith if he wasn't prepared to accept the way of life that that person chose to live in the first place. Mark would have, quite rightly, said that if someone _did_ actually put his or her faith aside for someone, then one could honestly wonder whether that person was truly dedicated to their religion in the first place, or if they just simply realized what was more important to them. That was the situation Victor felt Paras was in, except the object of that concept was Victor himself, and he was the variable upon Paras's decision. Then, the reptilian felt guilty for forcing Paras to choose. _'No Victor,' _he argued in his mind, _'Conviction. Unless you want to live a life in a rocking chair on the opposite side of the room to Paras, then you need to let him choose what he wants more; You, or his excessive devotion.'_

Again, Victor was hardly asking Paras to ditch his faith completely; in fact, Victor would be against that. He just wanted Paras to see that one doesn't need to feel guilty for living a happy, healthy life. If a religion chose to come between a person's happiness, then was it worth following every rule set down by that religion? Victor heard of certain people disagreeing with aspects of their faiths, but it didn't mean they threw it out completely! It just meant they were different on that aspect. And who can argue with that? Who can say your belief is wrong? No-one, and so Victor felt it was Paras's place to realize what he truly wanted.

_"_Now I just sound like Mark," he sighed to himself, coming to an end of his train of thought. He circled his temples with his fingers and pushed the air from his lungs as he felt a knot in his back. He forgot that he was in the middle of the hall, but when a door adjacent to him opened, he remembered.

"Did I hear my name?" asked a familiar voice from the side, and Victor turned around. "I could have sworn I just heard you sigh my name?"

The cocky tone, the black wavy hair, and the smooth olive skin were instant give-aways as to who it was, and before Victor could allow Paras's face to inject guilt into him, there were butterflies dancing in his stomach and goosebumps down his neck and arms. But he had to retain composure most-of-all.

"_Your_ name? Man, it's not like I'm thinking about you all the time."

_Nice, Victor, nice. Just hint to the truth in your attempts to deny.. How original. _

Luckily Mark laughed and Victor sighed with relief; and guilt of course. Mark seemed to have been on his way to the gym, or for a jog or something of a physical nature, as he was dressed in a vest similar to the one he was wearing last night and he held a bottle of water and an I-pod in his hand. He seemed to notice something different in Victor's face and made no bones about commenting in regards to it. "How did it go with Paras last night?" He then yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Or should I say a few hours ago? Hell, Vicky, have you even slept yet?" Another valid observation; Victor hadn't slept yet. He hadn't even noticed that it was late by the time he got home from his disaster meeting with his mother, not to mention the war against Paras, his break down with Mark and his later peace treaty with Paras after that. What time was it anyway? Oh, great thing to ask. _  
_

"What time is it anyway?" Victor asked, inhibiting a yawn and rubbing his eyes. "What time did I leave yours last night?"

"About 5am. Ben never came back, so I say he crashed at Laurie and Noriko's. Now, it's 9, but I'm guessing that you still haven't slept? What happened with P-man?" Mark asked.

Victor cringed. _'P-man? Really? Ugh. He's lucky he's Mark,' _he thought to himself before doing some inner-reprimanding. "We ugh.. we're not together anymore.. for now, anyway," he apprised. It felt so strange to say that; so bare, and so bald, and he felt as if he needed something behind him to catch his weight upon the shocking effects of realization. And how did Mark know that he hadn't slept yet? Was it that obvious on his face? Victor groaned and wiped his eyes again. But Mark's face dropped, and a sympathetic expression befell him, and before Victor knew it, a hand was on his shoulder and he was being guided into a dorm. At this stage, as reality sunk in, he didn't care where he was, or what anyone did to him. He was just numb again and felt almost zombie-like in his inner confusion and chaotic thoughts. In fact, he momentarily forgot that he was in Mark's presence until the mutant said something.

"You okay, Vicky? How can I help?" A friendly hand was still clasping his shoulder, and he noticed it as a cat may notice a fly on a window; he recognized it, and even discerned that it was a positive thing, something he'd find playful or interesting, but he couldn't react to it. The happenings around him were simply evoking nothing from within.

"I'm fine Mark. I just need to sit down.. I think I'm exhausted."

Mark's brows weighed upon his eyes while Victor began to zoom in and out, feeling as if the walls were moving closer to him and then further away again. Having had no sleep whatsoever combined with the agony and stress of realizing that things were off with Paras, caused Victor to feel light headed and every time he blinked, it felt as if someone was turning the lights on and off. Losing his balance, he fell to the floor without even reacting. Perhaps the reason he didn't yelp was because Mark caught him before he seemingly touched the surface and there he suddenly was, suspended in his friend's arms, with his head dangling.

"Okay Vicky, you've been through enough in one day, time to get some rest."

Victor swayed his arms as he became increasingly delirious. "No, I need to find Paras," he yelped, forgetting even where he was or who he was with. "He'll be wondering where I am." Mark kept him still and didn't allow him to leave despite his efforts. He clung tightly to the reptilian to restrain him from running off somewhere in his sleep deprived dementia. It was true, exhaustion really could amplify negative emotions and confusion, to the point where Victor began cursing at Mark to let him go. The latter discerned that Victor's behavior could be attributed to the combined weight of the issues of his mother and Paras on his shoulders, as well as a total lack of shut-eye. It was a condition that Mark knew well, but one he had become accustomed to during life on the streets.

"Let go!" Victor pleaded. "Why do you want to keep me here?"

Mark tightened his grip. "Because you don't know what you want, you idiot," he teased, despite being serious all the same. Victor stopped struggling and Mark lowered him to the floor. "Mark?" Victor then asked, his eyes wide as the light of the ceiling shined into his pupils. "Mark? Where's Paras?"

"Upstairs, my demented reptilian friend," he replied with levity, walking to the closet and pulling out some sheets and a pillow. "But don't worry about that. You need to sleep Vick, you've done too much in one day."

"I'm wrong. This is all my fault. I shouldn't be here. It's wrong," he cried-out in desperation, bringing a hand to his fatigued face but not feeling its physical effects due to his numb cheeks. Mark watched him with concern before lifting his head and putting one of the pillows below it. He took a quiet breath and placed a wet cloth on Victor's face and as he did so, he noticed a cut on the back of the mutant's head. His shoulders tensed, and he sighed heavily. "Vick, did you hit your head?"

"On the way down," he chuckled. "You didn't quite catch me. Hit my head! Silly Mark."

_'Concussion, sleep deprivation and inhumane stress.. that explains the bipolar behavior,' _Mark thought to himself. Luckily he knew that Victor's skin was rubbery enough to seal the wound itself, but it was more the bang to the head that he fretted about. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Six," replied Victor with a delirious chuckle. "..teen! Sixteen." At that point Mark sighed again, but he also couldn't hold back a grin. If only Victor knew how much he was going to tease him for this! His attention back to Victor's head, Mark brought the wet cloth to the cut and dabbed the small glob of blood. It was nothing too serious; he just needed to sleep and not move too much, and not to mention gulp a few pills for the headache that was sure to come his way.

Victor's eyes widened and he began patting Mark's hair as if it were a creature in a fairytale. "Your hair!" he gasped. "It's so.. w_a_vy.. Why is it so wavy? Heeeeeeeh you're wavy. I like wavy."

Mark snorted. "You have a concussion Vicky, you need to sleep."

"Sleep is for pussies!" he replied, his chest raising as he laughed. "And as you know, I don't like anything to do with those!"

Mark burst out laughing, despite trying to be the serious one. He had to contain himself from recording Victor and playing the tape to him later. "Anything you say, can, and will be used against you," he warned with a chuckle, knowing well that it was pointless even trying to communicate with the spaced out Victor. The reptilian smiled and his chest heaved with laughter. "I'll say whatever the shit I want!" he croaked, sending Mark a rich smile. "I'm free dammit! I have wings and I'm freee."

He then spread out his arms and began swaying from side to side as if he were flying. "See Mark? Freeeee! And not you, or even your perfect wavy hair can get me! Haha!" Mark rolled his eyes and flattened one of the blankets upon Victor before observing momentarily and saying, "You're insane, you know that?"

"No, I'm _free_! You're just jealous that you can't fly like me, aren't you? Well, your loss, sucker!" he cheered, his pupils wide. "I bet you hate that I'm free and you're not!"

Mark sniggered. "Yep Vicky, you're pretty free on that floor right now. You've showed me who's boss."

"Damn right I have!" he cawed. "Just because of your perfect hair and eyes, you think you're free, but you're not! I have wings - so _I'm_ the free one!"

Tilting his head, he watched Victor snigger and roar with laughter at thin air. "How could my perfect hair or eyes make me free?" Mark asked, although knowing that there was no point reasoning with him at this stage. Victor laughed again and his hand slapped the surface beside him. "Don't play games with me!" he giggled. "Actually, no, _do_ play games with me. Heh, I like games."

Mark hummed a laugh. "Vicky if you weren't so crazy right now, I'd swear you were flirting with me," he commented neutrally, flipping the wet cloth on its other side to keep his friend's head cool. Victor gasped inwards, as if he was a child with a secret and his face began to redden before he burst out for air and began chuckling right afterwards. "Maybe I am," he sniggered. "Why wouldn't I? I have nothing to lose, Mr. WavyKing; and do you know why that is?"

Mark rolled his eyes with a smile. "Why?"

"Because I officially have nothing!" he chortled, "My parents don't want me, Paras doesn't want me, my brothers and sisters don't want me, it's a wonder why I wake up every morning!" He began laughing, but Mark's expression dropped and he continued. "But now I have these wings. Now I can fly away from everyone and live the way I've always wanted to. And none of you can stop me! None of you can pretend to care about me and drop me, because this time, I have wings to catch myself before I hit the floor."

Mark fell silent. Despite the laughing and the giggling, nothing to do with the situation was funny anymore. In fact, Victor wasn't truly mirthful at all; he was desperate, lost and alienated and Mark realized that this act was, in ways, his only way of breaking down. Feeling a knot in his stomach, Mark breathed out and flipped the towel over again before lowering his hand to Victor's shoulder and squeezing it.

"I won't let you fall," he said huskily. "I don't let my friends fall."

Victor smiled widely as his pupils narrowed and his eyelids began to slip over his eyes. With that, he fell asleep, the anguished smile still on his face. Mark leaned over and took the cloth off, wrung it out, soaked it again and reapplied it to Victor's head. The stillness of the mutant meant that he wasn't dreaming, and as Mark watched his nose twitch every now and again he wondered what was going on in his dreamless mind. Mark always believed that people were shaped and tamed by the burdens they lived by, but something about Victor's situation wasn't fair; he never got a break, he never had a time in his life to experience consistency and stability. His world was always transient and that fact caused the knot in Mark's stomach to tighten. Victor was one of his closest friends and he hated seeing him in such agony. Ironically, their friendship was once rooted in dislike, and from there it became a rivalry, until it finally matured into an unassuming friendship. Of course Mark teased Victor along the way, but that was just his way of expressing his fondness of the mutant.

His feelings towards seeing Victor in such despair told him that Victor's friendship meant more to him than he had previously thought, and Mark sighed as he heard him bleat, "I'm sorry Paras, it's all my fault," in his sleep. The knot in Mark's stomach clawed his heart. He was right; Victor didn't deserve the hand he was dealt in life. He didn't deserve to live a life of double prejudice arising from two fronts of differentiation. He didn't deserve to have such illusionary love in his life. He didn't deserve any of that; he was a good person, yet he never saw light at the end of the tunnel. What he deserved was someone who could see the human in him - a person worthy of him. Mark placed a hand over his friend's forehead softly, conscious not to wake him up, and he brought his lips close to his friend's ear before whispering,

"None of this is your fault, Vicky. You deserve better than this."

**††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††**

Josh had a busy schedule ahead of him. Jay had run off to meet Callie Betto and asked if Josh could would run a few errands for him. One of them was to bring an envelope to Beast - much to Josh's chagrin as he still wasn't completely at ease when around the teacher - and the other was to drop a folder to a girl called Rahne Sinclair, who apparently was Jay's lab partner in a certain chemistry assignment. Also, if he saw Laurie along the way, he planned on asking her if she wanted to hang-out. It had been a long time since he had spent time with anyone bar Jay or a human, so he picked up the envelope and the folder and headed out the door.

As he crossed through the halls and descended the stairs - nodding curtly to groups of students along the way- Josh noticed Jay leaving the room he too was headed for - Beast's office. Halting abruptly, Jay visibly stiffened when he saw Josh, and the healer eyed him suspiciously. "Jay! What're you doing here? I thought you were with Callie?"

Jay cleared his throat. "Yes, well I just needed to have a word with Mr. McCoy." His hand came to glide over the back of his head. Luckily for him though, the suspicions went over Josh's head and he said, "you lazy shit! Here I am dropping this envelope off for you when you could have done it yourself!" He lifted it and waved it in Jay's face with a chuckle. "And you're the one with wings. Lazy, lazy."

Jay's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you Josh, but if you wouldn't mind running it into him, I'm running late to meet Callie. He's just inside." He patted Josh on the shoulder. "Thanks again, my friend." With that, he scurried off and left Josh to himself. '_Someone's back to his formal self,' _he said to himself with a mental frown. He had taken gratification in seeing Jay become less rigid with him over the course of their now-fortified friendship, but he shrugged and dismissed Jay's step-backwards as a relapse. Perhaps he had been formal with Beast and forgot to drop 'the act' when he saw Josh. Who knew? He'd speak to him later. Oh yes, the envelope.

Josh ambled in, a little unnerved as he remembered that he was about to see McCoy, and when he saw the biologist, he pushed the rectangular envelope in front of him to insinuate that he didn't need to dwell long. Beast waved him over to his desk. "Ah Josh, you have something for me?" he asked warmly, flicking on his reading glasses. "Who is this from?"

"Jay," Josh coughed. "He was on his way to meet someone and asked me to bring it in." Beast took it and cut open the sealed flap with a swipe of his nail, and he slid the contends into his hands. His eyes flicked from side to side as he read the sheet of paper that had been inside. "Ah yes. Very good," he mumbled, chewing his lip. "Very detailed, perfect, just what I need." Josh cleared his throat to remind the teacher to excuse him, but nothing of the likes happened, and so Josh stood there waiting for McCoy to finish. Eventually, he decided to speak.

"Can I go?" he asked curtly, hands in his pockets.

Beast smiled and looked up. "I thought you'd never ask! Yes Josh, you may leave, and please don't hesitate to just ask next time."

With that, he turned around but was suddenly called back by a voice that was clearly not Beast's. It was familiar; where had he heard it? Hmmm.

"Josh, come back here and take me with you," said the person, and he turned around. His eyes glowed when he saw who it was and a dopey grin painted itself on his face. "Laurie?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" The blonde walked from Beast's desk and faced Josh. She was wearing her white plimsolls and a pair of white shorts that matched it, while her hair was tied so that it fell to one side of her neck in a wavy, clipped fashion. Josh brushed the soles of his shoes against the tiled floor. "I just came," he blurted, stopping and gulping with a red smile. ".. to drop an envelope off for Jay."

_'And the pervert of the year goes to.. - drumroll - Joshua Foley!' _he thought to himself.

Laurie smiled and quickly raced to pull her bag from Beast's desk before turning back to Josh again. "Well, I'm done here," she said. "Do you want to hang-out or something?" Josh replied in the affirmative before she could even finish her sentence, and when Beast nodded with approval, both skipped to the exit.

"So where to?" Laurie asked, the sun lighting her face in a way that made Josh stare for a moment. "Josh? Hellooo?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face until he caught a whiff of her floral perfume and descended back into a trance. She then nudged him and he came out of it with a flick. "So what island did your mind wander off to?" she asked with a grin. "Jamaica, Antigua, Barbados?" She giggled lightly and exposed a row of teeth. "I tend to wander off to Hawaii, but that's just me."

Josh hummed and quickly thanked the fact it was hard to see his red cheeks behind the golden exterior. "It's not important. Do you want to go up to my room? There's this place outside my window that Jay and I sit at sometimes. It's sunny out, so do you want to head out there?" He cursed how he waffled on but he maintained eye contact, and that apparently bolstered his confidence. "Sure!" she said enthusiastically. "I've been locked in that lab helping Beast all day so getting some fresh air sounds good."

_'Heh, she waffles too,'_

"Cool." With that, they ascended the stairs and ventured into the boys' dorms, with Josh jiggling the keys in his lock when they arrived. After many failed attempts, Laurie offered to open it and Josh glumly accepted, his face inwardly scarlet at how inadequate he felt. It was as if his coordination decided to shut itself off when Laurie was around. They were met with a gust of frosty wind upon entrance but Laurie didn't comment. Pointing to the open window, Josh said, "Sorry it's cold; Jay must have left the window open." Despite the sun being out, the air was deceptively icy and so Josh shut the window with a slam, welcoming his coordination back.

"Not as warm as it seemed," he said, while Laurie fondled a belonging of Josh's on the shelf. He eyed her, unsure what the fascination was until he spoke, with hopes of her clarifying everything. "I didn't think that old thing was so interesting," he joked. Laurie put it down and turned to him shyly. "Sorry," she commented. "Your dorm has changed a lot since I was last in it." Oh yes, that's right. Last time she was in Josh's dorm, she charitably offered to help him sort out his room, but he had been unforgivably rude to her despite that. A heaviness befell his diaphragm and he sighed remorsefully. "It would look a lot better had I not scared you off with my dickheadness."

Laurie half smiled apologetically. "Don't beat yourself up. It looks great for a boy's dorm, now."

A silence developed and both mutants stared at the floor, unsure what to say, until Laurie spoke. "You have a guitar?" she asked, picking up Jay's ruby colored instrument and giving it an unrefined strum. "I've always wanted to learn." Eyes looked from Laurie to the guitar and Josh watched her unskillfully wrap her fingers around the bridge. He liked how she looked with it.

"I could teach you," he offered shyly, before stopping himself, feeling too unworthy of being her teacher of any kind. "Sorry, you're probably too busy. Forget I asked." But Laurie's face remained positive and her reply threw Josh off completely. "Actually, I'd love to learn," she said. "I never knew you played?"

"Well I'm no Led Zeppelin but I can get by," he replied. "I mean, Jay's better than I am, but I could still teach you a few things." He brought himself to sit beside her on Jay's bed and watched her as she continued to strum cacophonous sounds. "I'm sure anything you teach me will sound better than this!" Her fingers swiped the strings again and Josh flinched at the sound. "Well there's definitely room for improvement," he said lightly, "but you'll be flying it after a few weeks, I promise!"

"Great!" she replied. "Then when will we start?"

"Whenever suits you."

"Now?"

Josh chucked nervously. "Now suits me fine." With that he began to explain how to sound out each note with the strings and how to strum in relation to that. He gently took the guitar from her and played an example song as she watched gratefully. He handed it back and she played the same notes he had, doing well for her first time. "That was really good," he encouraged. "Now try strumming down, down, up, up, down, up." Laurie nodded and attempted, but mixed up the rhythm. She apologized with a chortle and tried again, doing it a little better than the first time. "Good!" he said again. "You're getting the hang of it!"

"It's not as hard as it looks," she said back, the light of the window catching her eyes. Josh smiled, but before he could say anything, Laurie spoke again. "So how do I play 'E' again?" She tried wrapping her fingers around the bridge again until Josh came to her aid. He explained it with words ineffectively until he asked, "May I?" Laurie nodded and so he repositioned her fingers for her, so that each one covered the proper string to form the note.

As he brought his hand back, her fingers slipped from position and her hand fell into his for a brief moment. Neither moved while Josh stared at their unity, her tips dented by the shapes of the strings. He felt deep blue eyes search him for a moment before he gently withdrew his hand out of fear of her reaction, and he apologized slowly. "Sorry," he said, just above a whisper. "Y.. you're getting the hang of it." He stopped again and mentally facepalmed himself. "Of the guitar, I mean. You're learning fast."

Laurie smiled. "I have a good teacher," she said at his level, as if she was in a trance. Josh clearing his throat was the only noise heard for a moment until Laurie's phone went off. "Sorry," she coughed. "It's Noriko looking for me." She got up for the door, leaving Josh alone on the bed, until she turned around and addressed him, her eyes still shining brightly. "I'd love to continue this ... would you mind becoming my guitar teacher?"

Stuttering and not sure what to say, Josh had to pull himself together amidst the part of him that was cheering loudly as per her request.

"I'd like that," he said with a smile that lit up his eyes. "I'd like that a lot."


End file.
